


Overture

by Flustered



Series: Women Of Marvel Soulmates [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Humor, Im rewriting this dont worry, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Red Room, Red Room!Darcy, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Violence, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-09
Updated: 2016-06-20
Packaged: 2018-06-01 06:35:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 25
Words: 54,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6504685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flustered/pseuds/Flustered
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She was one of 28.</p><p>In the years later, she was known as Darcy Lewis. Or probably as that one girl who is too scared to go talk to her one Soulmate, but sends him an array of creepy letters.</p><p>Yeah, that's more like it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tchaikovsky

She was one of twenty-eight.

She didn’t have a name, weapons didn’t have names, they told her. A number was all that she had, just like the other girls who sat by her and didn’t make any move to talk. She was number 13.

13 was an unlucky number, a man had said once before she took a knife to his throat during training. After that, when all of the girls schedules were complete and they were resting in the room, waiting for lights out, they whispered about what he said. She forever branded as Unlucky 13.

13 didn’t really care. She survived.

After that, training became more serious. Soon, there were only fourteen girls left. 13 survived.

She had to survive.

Weapons did not have names.

Unlucky 13 continued onwards.

There were dreams. They stayed with her, even after they strapped her down in a chair and made 13 forget. The blissful silence in her head was perfect until that night, when she was handcuffed to a bedpost, and then the screaming started. There was one image that would appear without fail. 13 always thought of it.

There were two ballerinas, one had a knife in her hand, the other had a gun. They both stared at each other, until finally the one with the gun raised her hand and aimed. There was a tense moment, and the one with the knife stared into the others eyes. Finally, the one with the gun lowered her hand. Something in her eyes made it so impossible to hurt her, but 13 took the knife and her slit her open. Because they were watching.

13 woke up just as she looked at her with her brown eyes and gasped out one thing. She couldn’t remember what she said.

Sometimes things got mixed up in her head. It was difficult not to. It was confusing. But it didn’t matter to the Matrons. They simply guided you along as they remade you. Sometimes with blood. Other times with fire.

Another instance that 13 remembered was meeting number 6. Apparently, 13 had heard in one hushed conversation, that 6 was one of the devil’s numbers. She thought it befitting. Unlucky 13, and Devil 6. It was what 13 said to her when she and 6 finally came together. Her red hair and green eyes were something of an oddity here, and several girls came to try and make a deal with her. 6 was very skilled, and there was no match to her. Yet.

6 studied 13 for a while. Then left when the Matrons came. They gave her poisoned food again. 13 could tell by the way it tastes. So 13 spat it out and starved, while other girls took the risk by eating it. Some ate it, thinking that only a little might make them sick. Others ate it because they were tired. Sometimes 13 was tired too.

That night, eight girls passed away.

It was an honor that they didn’t get to have. They shouldn’t have died so peacefully. But then, somehow, it was befitting of them. A peaceful way for death, for a weapon that could never stop.

That night, when 13 laid awake and could hear the last shuddering breaths of the girls next to her, 6 came.

“You are unlucky and I may be a devil, but we both want to survive. And we shall.” 6 slipped something into 13’s hand, and when she opened it during the morning light, it was a small wrapper containing a piece of baking chocolate. It was melted slightly, but nevertheless 13 ate the bitter piece of chocolate it tasted like freedom.

13 grew older.

So did the other six girls.

Six turned into four.

Four turned into three.

Three into two.

The Matrons haven’t decided yet if they wanted to have them turned into one yet. 6 and 13 survived. They did what they were told, and if somebody asked them to jump, they didn’t ask how high, they just went as far as they could.

They haven’t wiped them in a while. 13 has been counting the days, and it has been three years and sixteen days since she was last put in the chair. Her head understands things better now. She was getting smarter.

6 was better at 13 with hand to hand combat, but 13 had the advantage with guns and knives.

Then they brought in the Winter Soldier. 13 remember seeing him for the first time. She and 6 were standing together, staring straight ahead, but 13 caught a glimpse of him from the corner of her eye. He had hair that was shaggy, a little bit too long. Nothing like the shaved cuts the men here had. A metal arm gleamed in the light. He wore a pair of kevlar pants and several knives were strapped to his body.

It was their Matron who did all the talking for him.

“Take him down.” She had said.

6 and 13 went different directions. They cautiously moved around him in a circle. He stayed where he was, not moving except for his breathing. It was obvious he was well trained. Very well trained.

13 was the one who struck first. Strike hard and fast, getaway if you can. That was her plan. But it lasted a single moment, and then 13 was on her back with a blade next to her jugular. He barely glanced down at her, as he watched 6.

6 stood there, and then lowered her head in submission. A clear way of saying surrender.

With a bark from the Matron, the Winter Soldier took his knife away and left 13 on the ground.

“What have you learned today?” Matron asked.

“Do not attack a man who is stronger than you and is aware of your intentions.” 6 says.

Matron and the Winter Soldier are pleased. He gives 6 a knife from his belt. Matron gives her an extra serving of mashed potatoes that night.

All 13 has is a sense of frustration and jealousy. 6 splits half of her extra serving with 13, and gives her a look. It doesn’t give anything away beneath her mask, and 13 knows that she has one on her face too, but it’s enough for the both of them to know that she was sorry. They had grown closer to each other over the years, but if they were still ordered to kill each other, one of them must do it.

13 is sure that this time, when she is faced with this choice, she will be the one who is lowering the gun.

6 becomes the favorite. 13 is quickly ignored. Matron has been giving her punishments while 6 gets rewards. A year goes by. 13 and 6 are still close, but whispers have been heard about how they are thinking of getting rid of 13, and training 6 to become the sole winner of the title of ‘Black Widow.’

13 has been seeing this coming for a long time now.

6 starts to become more emotional when she is with the Winter Soldier. Things were drawing to a head, and 13 can’t see if she is the one who is going to survive.

The night came when 6 picks her handcuffs off and comes over to 13’s beaten body. She had failed again today, somehow not good enough for the Matrons. Nothing is good anymore.

“13.” 6 whispers.

13 should hate her. 6 will kill her. Soon. But she is as calm as ever.

“Yes, 6?” 13 turns over to face 6.

“I saw something. Today. They brought me in to see the maintenance of Yasha.” 13 flinched at the name of the Winter Soldier that 6 made up for him. “I saw files. With our pictures on them.”

“Our files?”

“Yes. And they… they had our names in them. Not 6 or 13, but what we were born with.”

“We have names?” 13 breathed. “What are they?”

“I am Natalia Romanova. Your name is Darcy. I didn’t see your last name before they caught me looking.”

“Darcy.” 13 says, tasting the name. “It sounds American.”

They both giggle.

“Thank you, Natalia.” 13 -no _Darcy_ \- says.

“Darcy.” Natalia says, pausing for a second. “You’re welcome.” She finishes, and Darcy knows it’s a lie.

In the morning, Natalia was gone. She had run off with the Winter Soldier. There was chaos in the Red Room. Darcy was mostly ignored for the most part. She sat on her bed while Matrons yelled, out of character of their calm masks they showed Darcy.

Quietly, and hidden from any prying eyes, Darcy smiled. She remembers that this was the first time she honest to God prayed. When she had heard that phrase, years ago, she didn’t understand. But now, when she wanted something more than her life itself, Darcy _believed_ . ‘ _Please God, don’t let Natalia be found. Let her taste the freedom. Let her live. She deserves it. I don’t care about me. Let her live. Please.’_

For a while. Anyways.

It took three weeks. Natalia was found. The Winter Soldier was scheduled to be placed away in his cryostasis as punishment.

Darcy never believed in God after that.

Natalia was being kept away from Darcy, lest she ‘contaminate’ her in some way. That’s what the Matrons said. Still, Darcy didn’t have any classes or training. Everybody was still preoccupied.

It was a mistake.

For them.

Darcy had just one question. Why. What would the Winter Soldier have that Natalia would trust him enough to escape with him? How?

Darcy slipped away, and nobody noticed her disappearance. Nobody noticed her as she walked through the hallways, twisting and identical. She knew where the room was by heart. Even though it was a simple question she wanted to ask, she could feel the climbing adrenaline in her system as she got closer.

He was alone, sitting in the chair. Probably only for a minute or two. Then he’d leave. He stared blankly at a wall, not even acknowledging her even though Darcy knew that he knew she was there.

“Why her.” It wasn’t really phrased as a question. He didn’t respond, only tilted his head. He was listening.

“Why her. Why Natalia.” Darcy didn’t move from the doorway. She was terrified to come across as too threatening. He might terminate her. Still, she kept her voice firm and and loud.

“Who?” This time, he looked at her. His eyes were blank. There was no curiosity, no confusion. No emotion. The Winter Soldier, the one who knew her, was gone.

(This might happen to her. Or Natalia. To whoever survives. They might take everything away from her. And leave her like this. Darcy felt sick.)

_Who_?

The single word in Russian made Darcy catch her breath. It was small. Barely a hitch. But both of them caught it. _Who?_  It was printed on Darcy’s stomach. There was a crisscross of scars across the black words, but it was still legible.

Searching her memory back, Darcy was more than sure that this was the first time that he directly talked to her.

There was a sinking feeling that he was… _him_. The whispers from all of the long dead girls. Her soulmate. Some of them were gray, others were black. From the Disney movies that they watched, Darcy knew that the only way to confirm that he was… _him_ then she must touch him. Then they would both know.

But the thought that her soulmate was about to be locked away, and she will never see him again. It was impossible. Not without knowing. She had to know. There was a large chance that he _wasn’t_ hers. A very large chance. Astronomical.

“Natalia. A girl like me. With red hair. She likes dancing and stealing baking chocolate from the kitchens even though it tastes like shit.” Darcy took two steps in, and then hesitated. Was this really worth the chance? Does she really want to die after all of this?

It only took a second for the answer to appear into her head.

She continued stepping into the room.

“Mission unknown.” He said in his raspy voice, and now he was looking away. He wouldn't meet her eyes.

“She wasn’t a mission. She’s the reason why you can’t remember anything. You ran away. You got away. But you were taken back here. Do you remember her?”

“No.”

Darcy was close. He was tensing up. Too close.

“I think she loved you.” Darcy spoke, after a minute of silence. “Trusted you.”

“Mission recall unknown.”

“I understand. They took you memories away from you. They did that to me too.” Darcy backed away, and sat in a technician chair. His tension went away. “Everything is peaceful. Silent. It’s the bliss before the storm.” He didn’t say anything after that so she continued. “It’s when you sleep do you really miss the silence. The dreams come. The blood. The red. Everything they couldn’t take away, but they come in flashes. And you can never take them away.”

“I don’t sleep.”

“You will. Someday. Even if you aren’t sleeping they don’t leave you. You’ll remember. And then you’ll scream.”

“What is the purpose of this.”

“I want to touch you.” No way was Darcy going to dodge around the subject. “I want to hold you hand for five seconds, and then I will leave.”

“Test?”

“This is not a test.”

“That’s what they all say.”

Some might even say that what he said was a joke. But the truth behind it made it eerily somber.

“Please.” Darcy said, “one second. Your skin. That’s all.”

He met her eyes again, and silently offered her palm to her. That was more than enough permission for Darcy. Although she was still wary. He might kill her. Still.

Darcy held out one hand over the top of his, and slowly let it fall. The moment their skin brushed, it wasn’t a suspicion anymore. Warmth tingled down her hand it seemed to fill her whole body. She let out a shuddering sigh as the feeling of _safety_ and _comfort_ filled her.

It lasted until she felt him shift under her. And then she snatched her hand back. That had been more than a second. He looked at her now. Really _looked_ at her.

“You…” He blinked for a few seconds. “You feel like Stevie.”

“I-,” Darcy tried to speak. Her head ran what seemed like thousands of situations. In order to get them out of here. What would happen to them if they got caught. Her heart hammered in her chest.

It was simply overwhelming. Darcy turned her heel and left. The Soldier didn’t move. He just stared at his hand with a confused expression on his face.

She didn’t see him again. Not for the longest time.


	2. Chapter 2

It was 1991 when Darcy heard his title again. She had gone rouge. Left the white twisting hallways and took in her first fresh breath of air only six days after the Winter Soldier was put into cryostasis and shipped away. She could still smell the smoke and hear the screams as she locked the doors behind her and lit the place on fire.

Natalia gave her the biggest smile she could muster. And told Darcy that she was dead.

Years had passed. She hadn’t changed in appearance. Hadn’t really made the effort to. Sure, she kept with the fashion, and stayed within the spectre of ‘normalcy.’ But she didn’t try to hide away and pretend that she was who she wasn’t.

Her name was Darcy. Her last name didn’t matter. That was the only thing that changed about her. Darcy Carroll. Darcy Dickinson. Darcy whatever. She always picked her names from literature. It was better than picking something off the top of her head. And she learned to appreciate books that took her into another place where she didn’t have to think.

Even though Darcy’s appearance didn’t change, she herself did. Freedom, a word that meant so much more to Darcy than what she expected. It was all around her. She could make her own choices now, and nobody could stop her. When she left the Red Room, all she took with her was two things. One, her name was American. Two, she wanted to be free.

Where better than to be in America?

She learned to laugh. Live. Survive. Taxes.

Darcy didn’t think as herself as 13 anymore. Unlucky. No, she was the luckiest of them all. Alive. Well off. Happy. Everything she wanted. In fact, she was just about to settle down with a nice guy, and live in this suburban home with a picket fence, a golden retriever, and have two and a half kids when Darcy heard his name again.

It was foolish to not keep an ear to the ground.

All dreams and silly hopes were forgotten. Darcy Austen left that day, and nobody saw her again.

When she got there. She was too late.

He had his mission and he carried it out. There wasn’t even a sign that he remembered her. The newspapers where in a tizzy.

‘ _Howard and Maria Stark, Killed In Road Accident!’_

_‘Stark Industries Stock Market Crash!’_

_‘Billionaire Orphan Appears Drunk at Funeral!’_

_‘Army Losing Hope in War Supplies.’_

Darcy was too late to save him.

That night she did the same thing that she did years ago. She locked the doors, walked inside and unclipped a pistol from her side. There were no survivors.

True to Natalia’s word, Darcy was dead. The Red Room didn’t know that Darcy was still alive. She was thought to be killed while the Rooms burned everybody alive. _‘What a waste,_ ’ a report said once, Darcy scanning it for any details about her past. ‘ _What a waste that she died. She could have been a great asset, almost on par with the Winter Soldier with accuracy.’_

The thought that she could have been turned into a weapon like _him_ , made her stomach lurch. Imagining herself with those dead eyes, and standing while people poked and prodded her without any warning made her throw up.

She burned that building too.

Time continued. As more came and went, the more Darcy didn’t want to do anything with her past. It was still fresh in her mind, even to this day. Watching the girl with the gun slowly lower it, and then taking the knife and gutting her. She still dreamt it. Still handcuffed herself to the bed to stop the nightmares from becoming too real.

Darcy decided she would never, _ever_ , want to touch anything that involved the Red Room. Her past was behind her now, and she had a full life ahead.

Darcy Anderson became Darcy Twain who then lastly became Darcy Lewis. More than twenty years had passed since she heard even a rumor about her soulmate. Slowly, Darcy managed to forget about him.

Darcy Lewis was a typical college girl who didn’t have any idea what to become and was struggling with debts and boys. Well versed in anything pop-culture, Darcy fit right in like a glove. Feminism surprisingly took up a large part of her life. It started on June 6, 2009. She was in Arizona, and had joined a large group of women picketing the governor's house. She was there on some other business, but she joined mostly she was curious about what they were doing. Equal rights was… this _amazing_ idea that Darcy never really thought of something before. Sure, it was a nice dream to think about, but to actually be there and to _make_ it happen? Mind. Blown.

Darcy accidentally became famous in that small town, after she decked the County Sheriff because he had made one too many passes at her and one of the women, and for her defense, he had gotten angry and pulled out his baton. It was surprisingly easy to take him down. At first it was exhilarating, to use her moves and skills to take down the large and heavy set man. But afterwards she could only feel sick and guilty because she had used her skills. Something she had forsworn off.

The next day was surprising. Darcy was prepared for going away to jail, maybe for, at most, a year or so. Or have to pay for some type of community service. But instead she got a slap on the back of the hand and a woman paid off her bail. It was shocking because Darcy didn’t think she could have been able to get away that easily. And sure enough, the County Sheriff gave her a glare with a black eye.

What, instead she got was completely over her head. The Judge, who was the mother of the girl who the sheriff had been hitting on, had instead released all charges and simply asked if Darcy would come into her office to talk to her. If that wasn’t worrying enough, the County Sheriff passed a little too close for comfort and whispered, “I know what you been hiding, girly.”

Darcy was kinda not in the mood to kill somebody. Could she just not? Like, this once? And she really didn’t like the whole, ‘manhunt’ thing afterwards if she had to kill somebody. There were still two warrants that were still active in Washington and California, from almost ten years ago. But they really know how to hold a grudge.

Prepared to do her worst, Darcy walked into the Judge’s room with a knife hidden in the palm of her hand. She was a nice lady, who spoke softly when not in the courtroom, and offered Darcy some tea. She introduced herself as Melissa Toms, and when Darcy politely declined her offer of the beverage, didn’t dodge around the bush.

“Miss Lewis, you showed some skill in defense maneuvers. Now, this town doesn’t have a lot of good people in it, but there are a lot of women. This town is actually a hotspot for any abused or abandoned wife who want to drop off the map. Little town, almost no cell connection unless you’re standing right next to the cell tower, a large motel. A lot of women come here don’t usually get the right welcome, if you know what I mean.” Melissa spoke with a southern drawl as she set a glass of tea daintily next to her. “You see, I come from Texas. If a man don’t treat a woman right over there, they usually get shot. Or at least get shown a few sawed off shotguns. Here, well. Here we don’t get that kind of protection. Not only is it a hassle to get these men thrown in jail with that bum sheriff, but most of the men would deny the claims of harassing the woman and his buddies would agree with him.”

“What does this have to do with me?” Darcy asked, “not that I don’t, you know, get what you’re saying. But I’m a little confused here.”

“What I’m trying to say, is that I’m offering you a job. The mayor, who writes the governor's checks in this area, was not pleased that the sheriff was harassing a girl in front of the governor's own house. He has offered me one of the old abandoned buildings so we can start up a safety house for runaway women, and I would like you to teach self defense there.”

“You want me to teach self defense.” Darcy asked, her voice a little strangled.

“Yes. I do. It’s a tough time these days for women to go around without a man hitting on her. Sometimes they go too far. You’ll be paid fairly well, and have a room and lodging. I know this is rather sudden, but anybody else that I know how to punch a man are either men themselves or have their own studio that they work in. Abused women have a harder time listening to a man once they’ve gotten through runnin’ away from them.”

“I-” Darcy thought about it. She could make a difference. Help these people go through their hardships. It was really sudden though. “I wouldn't be opposed to it.”

Melissa gave Darcy a nod, a few papers to fill out, and a job the next day. It was interesting on how something so simple could change into something that lasted for a long time. It was like the time before Darcy got hooked to Star Wars, but now it was a huge part of her life. She didn’t stay in one place for too long, not after living in Wisconsin for a couple of years and things got a little hazy. She always liked the idea of moving around on her own free will. But maybe she should give this a chance, maybe just for a couple of years.

And that was where Darcy was, in the middle of her self defense class for women in Cane Beds, Arizona, when New York was attacked by aliens.


	3. Chapter 3

It was the first time she saw Natalia in years. On television of all places. It was hard not to sit there, with the other women around her, others crying because they knew a few people in New York, or just sitting there with shocked looks on their faces.

This was not a joke. This was probably far from a joke as possible. There was no way that the Government could possibly cover this up and say, ‘haha this dude was lying there is no aliens haha. ;)’ This was full on, legit, attack against Earth.

And there was nothing Darcy could do about.

She held one weeping woman to her chest as she stared up at the screen, her face stone. Natalia was there. Helping. Fighting along the men who were all dressed up in ridiculous costumes that were defeating the enemy. A monster was helping them, some big green guy who could destroy one of the giant worm like creatures that soared through the air in one punch.

The only thing that Darcy could think of was, ‘ _thank god that I’m not there.’_

It was over soon. Within about two hours. But those were two, long, heart stopping hours that made Darcy wish she hadn’t turned on the television in the first place. It was difficult to continue staring at the screen as somebody else decided the world's fate.

But sooner than later, it ended. The damage was done. New York was a battlefield. Death and destruction everywhere. But the enemy was gone, the fighters, the people called Heros, won the battle.

There wasn’t a question in Darcy’s head that they hadn’t won the war yet. There was still more to come, later, in the years following. The war was far from being over.

The saying came to mind. “Even if you win, the battle isn’t over.” There was still so much stuff happening over in New York, for months, even years after that continued to affect the people there. It was on the news. Papers. Television shows. People, even after almost two years from the Battle of New York, were still being found. Their bodies uncovered from where they were as construction still worked on buildings.

Time continued onwards. Darcy stayed in Cane Bed. It was good. She had friends, something to work with, and managed to keep her skills finely honed instead of being pushed back into the closet like an old dress that your grandmother gave you that you accepted to be polite but the style was seriously fifty years ago.

Her friends, sometimes even closer like sisters, were amazing. Although they taught her a lot that she never knew to think about. Like, for instance, what temperature your heating iron should be so it doesn’t burn your hair. Or how to use steam to help take wrinkles out of your clothes. How to hold a baby. Things that Darcy would have never understood or known before.

Margo, a wonderful woman who ran away from her husband like many of the other girls in this building, was the one who taught Darcy how to cook. Well, not just how to cook, but how to love cooking. Margo had even given Darcy several home recipes that her Italian grandmother would be rolling in the grave because it didn’t stay in the family.

Wendy was a blessing. She taught Darcy how to relax. Which Darcy thought she was okay in the department, but Wendy could easily tell that some bad things had happened to Darcy. She herself was an army vet.

There wasn’t anything that would take Darcy from her new life. She was perfectly safe here. The Red Room was gone, she was considered dead, the only other person on Earth who knew of her existence, Darcy knew without a doubt, wouldn't tell on her. She hasn’t killed somebody in almost five years. That’s the most she’s ever gone in her entire life! Darcy was safe. Her past was her past. It was the end. Forever. Gone. Poof.

Still. The nightmares persisted. And sometimes Darcy would wake up in her own apartment with Russian on her lips and the phantom feeling of handcuffs on her wrist. It was a part of her now. The Red Room raised her. Told her what she was going to be, how she was going to do it, and let her go. But now she was herself. She was Darcy Lewis, kickass woman, coffee lover, tax hater, feminist, tumblr fanatic, chef, and a general badassery. She grew from what she learned, and it’s been almost twenty five years since she escaped the Red Room and left her past behind.

Darcy was content and happy for the first time in her life.

Of course, karma still had plans for her. It didn’t last much longer.

It was early 2014, when Shield fell. Exposing Hydra in it. Darcy tried to keep out of it. She stayed off of social media for almost two weeks, avoiding any news or magazine that showed the helicarriers burning into the waters of DC below. She tried. She tried really hard, until one day she saw the Fox News newspaper of Natalia walking out of a courtroom with the words ‘COMMUNIST SPY?’ printed next to her.

She snatched the paper from the shelf, paid for it, and went home before finally read it. Natalia was 6. 6 was, and still is, her sister. Her personal confident. Her best friend. They went through hell together. She was the closest person that Darcy had ever gotten to. Even if they hadn’t spoken in twenty five years, she owed 6.

What they said about Natalia, although her name was stated as Natasha, made Darcy so angry. She wanted to go up to the person who wrote this obviously mysgotic person and shove the newspaper down his throat. Natalia was from Russia, so was Darcy, but that doesn’t mean that because she was a female, her mind could be easily twisted around so she would work for the opposite of what freedom meant. Or that because she was a woman, she easily escaped suspicion that she was Hydra because she had the right contacts who she paid with her body.

That night, Darcy finally went online to check out those ‘files’ they kept on talking about. Some of them didn’t do much harm. Just some old things from decades ago. Most of it was corrupted because of a virus somebody had leaked on there. (Darcy’s bet was on Tony Stark.) But the damage was done. Shield had a lot of shifty things going on, and not a lot of Countries were happy because of what came to light.

There were a few things that couldn’t be taken off online. Natalia’s record was one of them. She was recruited a few years after Darcy had burned down her second Red Room lab. About nearly seventeen years ago. Clint Barton, or Hawkeye, had given her a bargain to do what was right and she accepted it. There was a brief statement about Natalia’s background before that.

‘ _Miss Romanov stated that she grew up in a Red Room herself, trained as a Black Widow. She gave very little details about what she experienced, and from what evidence we have gathered from the Red Rooms after she has hit them is that it wasn’t a normal childhood. She escaped alone in 1988, three year before the fall of the Soviet Union. She didn’t state much about what she after that, until she began hunting down Red Rooms across Europe where Shield picked her up in 1997.’_

She didn’t.

She didn’t say anything about Darcy to them.

About her.

Darcy held her head in her hands and cried a little. Just a little. Barely a sniffle. Darcy owed so much to Natalia, it was starting to get ridiculous. Nothing from her past could haunt her.

She was hardly unlucky.


	4. Chapter 4

Karma, fate, or whatever god above that Darcy had apparently pissed off, was not done with her yet.

Darcy stared at the television in the room with a sense that she was slipping off into the deep end. She as hallucinating. She’s got to be. Because there was no way, on heavens Earth, was she seeing-

“He doesn’t look like the same guy in DC.” A girl in the class, Clara, wondered out loud. Clara was a simple case of teenage rebellion, who had run away from home and wanted to learn self defense simply because she wanted to kick somebody and look ‘badass’ while she did it. That was the reason that she gave Darcy, but half healed bruise on her wrists and that frightened look she’d get in her eyes when a truck passed outside said differently.

“Yeah, his hair is the same, but he doesn’t have that mask thing.” Wendy agreed, as she pulled out of her yoga pose and into a different one. Darcy changed as well, shifting between the poses like water as she stared at the slightly muted tv. Words ran underneath in red, announcing the urgent news.

‘ _DEAD WAR HERO ALIVE’_

_‘BEST FRIENDS COME TOGETHER AT LAST’_

_‘BUCKY BARNES, FRIEND? OR VILLAIN?’_

Seriously, biting her in the ass.

“Wait, you know him?” Darcy asked, breaking from her staring contest from the screen in the corner.

Wendy simply gave Darcy that _look_ of ‘Honey, you’ve been out of this world too long.’ “Yeah, he’s like some super assassin who tried to kill Captain America, back in DC.”

“Seven months ago.” Darcy sounded strangled at that. These people, all of the women in the room, knew that her… _him_. Has been out there, out of Hydra’s grasp for seven months? If Darcy had known… If she had known then maybe she wouldn't have been here. She might have gone out looking for him.

“Yeah, I mean, you were really adamant about not knowing anything about what’s happened in DC, so I didn’t show you those clips.” Wendy nodded at the screen, where shaky cellphone footage of a man entirely in black with a metal arm that _looked so familiar_ was hellbent on stabbing Captain America with a knife. Darcy was kinda impressed that Steve Rogers actually held out that long against him.

“Oh. Okay.” Darcy said, a little quieter than normal. She shifted yoga poses again. The class of women followed, letting their calves be stretched as girls chatted in the background. Darcy stared back up at the tv, where they were back at the interview. He was smiling. He looked so much happier than the last time she saw him.

“Darce?” Wendy asked, concerned. Darcy realised that she had been staring at the television for a long time. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” She said, taking in a deep breath before letting it go. “Yeah, it’s just. He reminded me of someone I met, a really long time ago.”

And Darcy shifted poses again, and didn’t talk about it anymore.

* * *

 

His name was James Buchanan Barnes. Born in March 10, 1917. He grew up in Brooklyn, New York with his best friend Steven Grant Rogers, after his mother died when he was seventeen. In 1942, he was drafted into the war. In 1943, he was rescued by his best friend, where they were both put into the Howling Commandos until he fell off a train in 1945. Three days later, his best friend crashed that plane. Two months later, the war ended.

Darcy sat back from her computer, staring at the Wikipedia page that she pulled up of her soulmate. His picture hadn’t changed yet, although somebody had already gone in and put in some data about him being the Winter Soldier, and another picture of him in his long hair. His main picture was him in his old uniform, with a cocky little grin that made something inside of Darcy flutter.

Was he attractive? Hella.

Would she ever want to go up to him, lift her shirt and say, “hey we met once, I don’t suppose you remember me, but I’m your soulmate.” Hell no. No way. Uhuh. He was happy doing his own thing. Darcy was happy clear out here in the middle of nowhere, where a new gas station just opened last month and it had a slushie machine.

So just leave it alone, and they’ll both be happy. Tada! Perfect! A great answer to a troubling problem.

Darcy touched under her belly button, where her soulmark way, with all of its scars and burn marks across it. He was her soulmate. Even now, after twenty five, almost twenty six years after escaping the Red Room, she could still feel his touch when they had held hands for a matter of seconds. The safety and comfort was a memory, but whenever she focused her thoughts she could imagine that he was holding her hand right at that second. Brushing her hair out of her face, and whispering, ‘ _I've got you,'_  comfortingly.

But now, right now? He just got out of Hydra. From the push and pull of other people’s will, from being subjected like an animal. While Darcy has had years to pull herself together, he’s only had seven months. He needed more time. James needed more time. What would he say, if he saw her at that second?

Probably a fake. Because first off, he just announced himself publicly. And if Darcy had wanted to do something like that, she would have done that before when she could have been the only other person who knew who he was before hand. There was seriously seven months from the first time he showed up on television, and it would be obvious now that since he’s Bucky Barnes, WW2 veteran, that some chick with some Russian on her stomach claims that he’s her soulmate it’s more likely to be a fake. If they had met before, then she should have recognized him long before this moment.

So there. That was her reasoning. He wouldn't believe her even if she told the truth, and that he needs some time. Get back his thoughts and memories. You know, the important stuff. He’s had a life before the Red Room, even a buddy who would help him through his difficulties. It wouldn't be as hard as what Darcy went through, but he deserves to have a break.

And so, Darcy firmly and quietly shut that door and locked away the key.

If only fate didn’t have it in for her. (See above.)

* * *

 

It was another three weeks after James Barnes revealed himself not dead, before Margo and Wendy cornered her.

Alright, so maybe she might have been sulking a little. Or mopey. But this was just a little thing. Nothing to be cornered in the kitchen with her mouth full of a muffin she had stolen a few minutes ago. Seriously, her friends were just overreacting.

“So… Darcy.” Margo said, as she wiped her hands on a towel, just finishing cleaning up from her recent baking project. Wendy was shuffling a few papers in her hands.

“Hmm?” Darcy absently mindedly hummed as she read the newspaper that was lying on the counter.

“So, the, uh. Winter Soldier, huh?” Margo said, and Darcy startled so badly she spat out her half chewed coffee mocha muffin.

“The what?” Darcy asked, wide eyed.

“Well, you either don’t like him, or you really really do. It’s kinda obvious.” Wendy said, not even looking at Darcy as she spoke. Her eyes still locked on the papers in her hand.

“Shut up.” Darcy snapped, “he just reminds me of an asshole I dated before.” A simple excuse to keep them off her back.

“Oh really?” Wendy finally looked up from her papers. “Then explain why whenever he shows up on the news or something, you either look at him like he kicked _and_ drove over your cat without warning, or you try to use the force to burn the television up with your eyes.”

“He was a lousy boyfriend?” It came out more of a question. Darcy winced, she had started getting sloppy about lying. Really needed to start doing that again.

“Shut up, we know he wasn’t a boyfriend or anything like that.” Margo rolled her eyes, popping her hip out. “All the time you’ve been in Cane Bed you haven’t dated once. In fact, you have no interest in boys at all!”

“Or girls.” Wendy added.

“Or girls.” Margo repeated.

“Guys, can we just leave this? I have bad history about this and-”

“Darcy, everybody who lives in this house has bad history. If this guy, this so called _war hero_ hurt you or something like that, you can tell us. All of us went through something like that.” Margo softly spoke. “We’ll understand, even if you don’t want to tell us, we’re here for you.”

“You know everything that we went through.” Wendy folded her arms. “We trusted you enough to tell you the full story. You can trust us.”

“You-” Darcy started, then shook her head and sighed. “You guys. If I was being abused, ever. Past or present, you would be the first to know about it. No, he didn’t abuse me. No, he didn’t hurt me. And,” Darcy faltered at this, for a brief second she wondered if she should be even saying this, but continued. “And we only met once. A really long time ago.”

“I knew it.” Wendy crowed in delight. “I knew it had to do something with the Winter Soldier guy!”

“Wait, you actually met an assassin once before? How?” Margo asked, leaning in.

“It was a long, long time ago. And he,” once again she paused, “he saved my life. Helped me get my feet under me so I could leave a pretty bad place.”

“Oh, this is so romantic!” Margo cooed, her face flushing a little. “Did he kiss you?”

“No!” Darcy frowned, “how was that romantic? And besides, full disclaimer, he was with my best friend. That’s it. They were together for a while. A mission, I think.” She added the lie as an afterthought. The two girls bought it.

“Oh, so he used your best friend.” Wendy’s face twisted up in disgust. “What a douche.”

“No, he didn’t use her. I think he really liked her. They, they did some things that could only mean that they liked each other. A lot.”

“Like fucking?” Margo asked. “I hope you realise, a man can easily fuck a girl with no feelings about her at all.”

“No! It’s. Just really confusing. They both really liked each other, a lot. I was sort of there, on the side lines. We didn’t even speak to each other before he left her, but it had been coming a while and stuff happened and yeah! End of discussion!”

“But that doesn’t add up. He was a terrorist assassin under mind control. How could he ‘like’ your best friend? And who is this best friend, by the way? And why haven’t we heard about her before?”

“She’s, uh. Dead.” Darcy let her eyes fall to the ground. It was technically true. Before she and Natalia parted, the both swore to say the other was dead.

“He killed her.”

“No. He protected her. But then he left.” Darcy said, her face twisting up. “Now can we stop talking about this? I don’t like reliving the past, okay?” She snapped.

Margo and Wendy glanced at each other.

“One last question.” Margo asked, “do you like him?”

“I guess?” Darcy angrily shrugged, “I mean, I don’t know. I haven’t seen him in years!”

“Would you like to?” Wendy looked down at the papers in her hand. “It’s just, one of my old pals is asking me to come up and help out at this women’s shelter up in New York. It’s in Brooklyn, and he needs somebody for the job. I can’t go, I don’t like cities. But I thought that you might, and…” She trailed off, shoving the papers to Darcy, “I don’t know, you could go up to the Avengers Tower or something and talk to him. My friend would be ecstatic if you went up to help, even if it’s just for a month of two.”

Darcy stared down at the papers, a mixture of horror and surprise written on her face. “I can’t, guys. This- this is asking way too much of me.”

“Well, you’re usually just so bright and cheerful but the last few weeks you’ve been snappish, kinda blank. Sometimes I’d say you’d be a robot.” Margo wrung her hands in the towel. “It’s what we could do, and we’re not asking you to go looking for him or anything! Just go take a break. Do something for yourself.”

“I don’t think I can.” Darcy set the papers on the table. “I just-”

“Darcy.” Wendy’s hand settled on her shoulder. A heavy weight keeping her there. “Do you remember how my husband acted when I came home from my tour?” He had tried to beat her down, to make sure she was more docile and compliant instead of a soldier, Darcy recalled. “I couldn’t sleep for months after I left him. Even after he got into that accident and died. He still haunted me. You know what I did? I went back to our house, and after a year and a half of being away there, it had changed. _I_ had changed. It wasn’t a prison anymore. Darcy, it looked like a crummy old beat down house that had stains in it’s carpet and a cat pee smell. One look around that condemned building, he was gone. I moved on.”

“Wendy-”

“No, Darcy. Listen. We know you have some pretty bad things happen that really fucked you up. They’re still there, and now you need to let it go. Don’t do this for him, or for any other person. This is for you, and only _you_. You need closure. You need time. You’ve fallen into this pit of a place, and you won’t get out because you finally fit somewhere you thrive in. But it isn’t helping you anymore. This is the point in time where I am saying ‘get the hell out and don’t come back,’ because you need it. This little place in the middle of nowhere isn’t letting you go anywhere. What we are offering is a break. A chance and an opportunity to go back out into the world and still see if it’s worth it. If it isn’t, we’ll still keep you around here. If it isn’t, then we’ll miss you.”

“I don’t. I can’t talk to him.” Darcy looked down at where her shirt covered her stomach. “It’s just, so hard.”

“We know.” Margo took Darcy’s hand in hers, and gave it a squeeze. “It’s always hard. But it’ll get better. I promise. Take a break, get me at least one deep dish New York Pizza recipe, and I might let you back into the house.”

Darcy smiled at that. “I guess.”

“Plus, think about it. You get to have gelato. And icecream that isn’t from a gas station.” Wendy added.

“Okay. Okay! Fine!” Darcy rolled her eyes and threw her hands up in the air in defeat. “You managed to convince me. But! But it’s only for a month! Got it?”

Wendy and Margo cheered.

“I thought we were going to have to talk about that bakery down on 17th, you know the one with the pretzels before she would give in.” Margo said, cheerily.

Darcy narrowed her eyes at them. “I know,” Wendy replied, “I was going to have to appeal to her faith in humanity and tell her that those women over there don’t even know how to throw a punch.”

“Oh shut it, you two.” Darcy playfully pushed them, but the two women just gave her a sly smiles. “Seriously, you guys really know how to work me, it’s ridiculous.”

“Darcy, we knew ever since you said you’d be our bitch if Margo made you more cinnamon rolls.”

“It’s true.” Margo shrugged, “we had you right where we wanted.”

“Maybe I wanted you to think that?! Hmm?” Darcy bluffed, but knew that her two friends knew she was lying.

It was a few seconds after Wendy and Margo left, did she finally sit down to read those papers. One of them was a plane ticket to go out in two days. The next was a job application, already filled out with Margo’s handwriting. (How did she get Darcy’s social security number?)

She was really going to go live in New York for a while. But, Darcy told herself firmly, she was going to leave her soulmate alone.

Darcy should really know it by now. Things never worked out as planned.


	5. Chapter 5

Two days later and a plane ride over, Darcy was seriously regretting this. A four and a half hour plane ride over, with a tiny little child kicking behind her seat and another, tinier child, was screaming bloody murder seemingly the entire time, didn’t help her mood. At all. Now, cranky and a little annoyed at everything, Darcy was trying really, really hard to get a taxi.

It was in all of the movies. You throw your hand up, maybe even whistle, and the yellow cab should come up and viola, taxi. Although it felt like Darcy was the only person who the taxi drivers were purposefully ignoring. There were dozens of people around her getting into the car, getting out of the car, putting their bags in a car, taxis leaving, taxi’s going. This was the place to get a taxi, Darcy was certainly not in the wrong place.

Maybe it was how she looked. She was certainly frazzled from the ride over, and she only had a carry on bag with her so she wasn’t lugging everything around. But after waving her hand for almost ten minutes with no success, it had started to rain. She was sure she looked like a bedraggled cat, or a giant hairball in the sewer pipes. It certainly wasn’t her best look.

“Oh come on!” Darcy growled, after standing for yet another fifteen minutes in the rain before thrusting her hand in the air with some cash in her hand. It was her last ploy to see if she could get a taxi. Almost immediately, a yellow cab pulled up in front of her. “Finally.” She grumbled as she opened the door and slid inside.

“Where to, Lady?” The man asked, as the smell of smoke and three day old pizza hit Darcy. Ugh, this was nasty!

“Um,” Darcy glanced down at the paper that she pulled out, even though she had it memorized. “Brooklyn, 166 Williams Avenue.” The man grunted as he put the directions in a GPS, and then took off in the middle of traffic.

Not only was it terrifying to be in a taxi, Darcy found out, it was worse when the man decided to chat her up. He was looking at her in the rear-view mirror, not even looking at where he was driving. Twice he had to slam on the breaks because he wasn’t paying any attention to where he was going. Twice! Darcy just held on tightly to the seat belt and hoped she wouldn't end up splattered on the seat in front of her. Or at the very least, not get a concussion.

The traffic was awful. The driving was awful. Even the streetlights were awful. They had short yellow lights, constant yelling from drivers who had their windows down. Music was thumping somewhere. It was a nightmare.

By the time they made it over a bridge and into Brooklyn, and finally in front of the giant building of the women's shelter, Darcy had lost ten years of her life.

“Alright, here we are babe.” The man turned around, “now, you sure you don’t want to go out and get some coffee at my place?”

Wendy had been sure to tell Darcy that coffee at somebody's place was code for ‘sex.’ (She knew that, already. But it was still fresh in her head.)

“Ah, no thank you.” Darcy said, with a smile as she swiped the machine with her card. After a few seconds, it said _transition accepted_. “Have a nice evening.”

“Hey, you too!” He said, as she got out of the car and slammed the door shut. The taxi sped off, braking suddenly when he noticed the stop sign, and then after a pause, sped on again.

“I am never getting into a taxi. Ever. Again.” Darcy spoke to herself, adjusting her glasses on her face. “Ever.” She hissed, before turning to the large building. It was still sketchy looking, yeah, but she could tell that it was clean inside and well used. The door was attached to a bell when Darcy entered, and a woman, clearly in her older years and reminded Darcy of a grandma bustled in.

“Oh, another beautiful woman is here.” She gave Darcy a big toothy smile. There was something off about her, but Darcy chose not to look far into it. Maybe it was too much makeup. That happened sometimes. “I’m so glad, missy, because we just got another open room today.”

“Oh, uh. I’m sorry, but I’m Darcy Lewis. I’ve been hired to come help teach women self defense?”

“Ah! That Darcy Lewis!” The woman gave her a wink. “That’s good! I was afraid you wouldn't make it. Now come with me, and I’ll show you your room.”

“I didn’t know I was staying here.” Darcy hesitated, she thought she’d find a cheap hotel or bunk with Wendy’s old friend or something.

“Oh course! You’re working here, aren’t you? You won’t have to share a room though, you’ll get an nice room all by yourself.” The woman bustled around, “I’m Miss Penny, but you can just call me Penny. There are some rules, although I don’t think you’d be the one around here who would break them.” She gave another wink to Darcy. “No drugs, no substances, no alcohol, curfew at the latest is midnight before we lock the doors. You know, basic things. Men are only allowed to be in the lobby, but cannot be in the hallways, rec room, any bedrooms, nothing else. Not even on the fire escape, got it?”

“Yeah. That seems reasonable.” Darcy brightly said, putting on her best smile. That seemed to appease Penny.

“Good.” She opened the door, and Darcy looked at a little sandwich box room. It was tiny. There was a twin bed that took up most of the space, a chest of drawers, and an old television on top of it. A VHS player was hooked up to it.

“I know it isn’t big, but it’s a good room.”

“No, no. It’s fine. My college dorm was smaller than this.” Darcy covered up any slight disappointment that she had. “It’s fine. Thank you.”

“Oh you’re so very welcome my dear. It’s not often that we get such polite women in this house.” Penny gave Darcy a warm smile. “Now I have to get lunch ready. We’re having sandwiches.” She leaned in and gave a conspiratorial wink at Darcy. “We serve dinner and lunch here. Breakfast is all up to you. Lunch is at noon, dinner is at six.”

“Okay. I’ll be there.” Darcy assured Penny, until the woman was satisfied that Darcy knew where everything was in the house. As Penny waddled away, Darcy leaned against the doorframe and let out a long sigh.

This was going to be a long month.

* * *

“Why can’t I just learn how to punch.” A girl with ratty hair and way too many bad dye jobs snarked.

“Because if you don’t warm up, then you might hyper-extend your arm and-” Darcy tried to explain.

“But if some guy comes up to me and rapes me, then he’ll have to wait for me to warm up to deck him?” The girl crossed her arms, giving Darcy a condescending look. “Wow, that’s logic for you.”

“What we are doing now is warming our bodies up, because we are going to be doing a lot more than just punching. Not only will you learn know how to beat up a man, you’re going to get into a fit shape so you can also run away from a man.” Darcy said, still in a cheerful voice, but her patience was ending very quickly.

“Why would I want to run away from a man? Is it because I’m a _girl_?” The girl sneered.

“No, but you might meet a man who is stronger than you are, and even if you hit him, it won’t bring you down.”

“Ooooh I’m so scared! What’s the point of this class if I don’t learn how to beat the shit out of men.”

“This is self defense.” Darcy crossed her arms, “I don’t teach you attack maneuvers. I teach you how to defend, and then run like hell.”

“This is stupid.” The girl rolled her eyes, and then entirely dismissed Darcy as she headed towards the door. “What’s the point.”

To be honest, Darcy should have seen this coming. What with Penny’s remark of nobody being polite like she was, and the fact that there were so many rules about no men. There were a lot of girls here that took the bitchy girls side. They were all rough on the edges, mean and fighters. They were here to learn how to fight. There were only a few women, one of them being heavily pregnant, that were here only because Penny forced them to be here, and all of them looked so timid that they wouldn't even throw a punch.

But if the girl wanted a show, then a show she will get.

“Hey, if you want to know how to beat the shit out of somebody, come here.” Darcy called back to the girl, who paused in the doorway.

“Oh? Finally getting out of your pussy little defense strategy? What man taught you that?” Bitchy girl asked, as she turned around and walked up to Darcy, standing a little too close for comfort. She smelt like marijuana.

“Hold you hand out.” Darcy said, as the girl scoffed and held her hand out like it was so annoying. Darcy took her wrist, and in one smooth motion, brought her foot up behind the girls knee and kicked it out. She fell forwards, as Darcy stepped aside, twisted her hand behind her back, and took two fingers in her other hand pulling them back until they were straining.

“You crazy bitch!” The girl yelled, but Darcy ignored the profanities.

“This is the hold that you use when a man has a knife in his hand. Especially if he is trying to mug you, or something annoying like like.” Darcy said over the girl swearing profusely. The other ragged girls had their eyes wide and stared at the scene, while the timid girls were also shocked but were paying attention.

Darcy took her wrist and pulled her back until her torso was straight, and then put her in a headlock, still gripping her wrist tightly. “This is the move that you use if you’re in a bar fight. Because you never know when those are going to happen.”

The girl was struggling to get out of Darcy’s hold now. After a minute of explaining things in detail, Darcy finally felt like she made her point and let her go by pushing her to the ground. “Now, I can teach you all a lot more. But I will _not_ teach you how to beat the crap out of some guy. I’m sure some of you girls already know your way around a knife. But if you’re just learning just because you want to attack somebody with it, get the hell out.” Darcy pointed towards the door. “Out.”

There was a moment of silence. The girl got up from the floor and cussed at Darcy some more before storming out of the room. A few girls went with her, after a few seconds, but the rest stayed.

“Okay.” Darcy sounded a little bit more calm. “Good. Now we are going to start up with some yoga exercises.”

* * *

New York was busy. It was almost crazy busy at this point. There was some type of rule that Darcy didn’t get told about. Every time she tried walking, there were people bumping into her. Some of them brushes, others were full on collisions. There was a swearing, both from Darcy and the unsuspecting person she had run into.

And if that wasn’t bad _enough_ , there were men constantly trying to talk to her. Whistling at her. Walking up and asking for her number. Some of them went even as far to say that if Darcy worked out a little then she wouldn't be as chubby.

(Yeah, Darcy was on the curved side. No, she was not all lean, mean, fighting machine. Her bones are a little dense, that’s all. She isn’t fat. She was born this way naturally, the dumb assholes.)

Not to mention they were totally staring at her breasts. Even the men in Arizona knew better than to stare Darcy, but these guys were and were practically drooling over her. Some of them even asked her how much she costed for a night!

It soon became apparent that either Darcy was going to kill a moron or two tonight and end up in jail, or she would have to give up her search for a pizza parlour. By the time she got frustrated enough, there was a subway located nearby. Plus her shoes weren’t doing the honor of keeping her arches pain free, so might as well try the whole New York experience.

“Okay, I’ll just take a train back the way I came, and it’ll be good.” Darcy muttered to herself as some guy came up again and tried to talk to her. She simply showed him her mace, and he backed off, but not without complaining loudly that he was trying to give her a compliment. (Thankfully it wasn’t her taser. Apparently it’s illegal to have one in New York. Which was dumb, because maybe the men might actually back off once in awhile.)

Once she was down the steps, and paid for a ticket, there wasn’t a lot of time before she had to board a train. She easily found the subway sticker of ‘you are here’, and traced her finger back. She was at Kingston, and-

_“Train leaving for 81st Street now.”_

Oh shit. That was it, wasn’t it. Darcy was darted towards the train, almost running over a Nun (a Nun?!?), quickly apologizing, and made it onto the subway train just in time. There were several people on there, and they all gave Darcy that ‘were all suffering here’ look, before going back to their devices.

As the train was pulling out, the overhead dinged.

_“Next stop, 81st Street, Manhattan. Arrival time, 41 minutes.”_

Darcy watched in misery as the station disappeared, beating herself up because she just _had_ to get on the train that was going the opposite direction.

Then her phone beeped twice. _Warning, 15%._

Great _._ Juuust. Great.

* * *

 

It was just before midnight that Darcy made it back in time. It was a hellish, grueling day of just plain _New York_ that made Darcy just want to go back to the sweet little town of Cane Bed where there was a population of just over 400. Now, that was perfect. Not- not this _monstrosity_ of a city!

Darcy dumped her shoes just inside her room and collapsed on the bed. Completely exhausted and drained of any human interaction _ever_ , she closed her eyes and-

 _Thump._ _Thump-tha-thump-thump. Thummmmp. Boom._

Somebody was playing music above her. It wasn’t loud enough that she could tell what was actually playing, oh no. It was the base that shook the building. The base was just at that right pitch that was low enough that Darcy could still hear it, and it annoyingly rattled everything in the room.

Groaning, and wishing she hadn’t listened to her friends, Darcy tried to bury her head with the pillow. It didn’t work. After that, she tried to suffocate herself with the pillow. Still didn’t work. After several minutes of _wishing_ somebody would _shut that thing off_ , Darcy threw the pillow off of her face and tried to fight fire with fire.

Turning on the television was simple, and turning it up was even better. It was just at an infomercial. Great. Darcy could live with that. She settled herself on the bed, and closed her eyes. With enough background noise, she could easily fall asleep.

And just before she was about to fall asleep-

“Breaking news! Today a picture was taken of the recently found James “Bucky” Barnes!”

Darcy groaned loudly. _Why! Why couldn’t he just leave her alone!_ She turned over towards the TV screen and glared at it. And there he was, all in his glorious jackass way. He had a ball cap on, but his hair was still down, wearing sunglasses, a t-shirt of Iron Man’s logo on the front, and looking off to the side. The woman still chattered onwards, still talking about her dratted soulmate.

Darcy was peeved, in fact beyond peeved. She was pissed off. Because of _him_ she was stuck in New York, teaching brat kids how to fight, who had no respect for her at all. Because of him, she had a crap day, got lost on the subway not only once, but _three times_ , got hit on by a taxi driver, and didn’t get any pizza!

It was time to give him a piece of her mind.

Angrily, Darcy stumbled to her feet, the blankets twisted around her legs so that she almost fell. But an angry Darcy was not a Darcy you would want to contend with. Oh no. Those blankets fell away in fear. Fear, she tells you. She grabbed her _stupid_ notebook from her _stupid_ bag, clicked her pen and started to write.

_Dear Soulmate,_

_Or asshole. Either word would suit you perfectly. Now, you don’t even have a clue who I am. Pretty sure you’ve forgotten. We met a while ago, and you were annoying even then. Really annoying. With that idiotic long hair and that eternal five o’clock shadow. And that stupid metal arm._

_So, full disclaimer before I go all ‘rant’ on you right now. For I know, for a fact, that this letter will never be read by you so I can say all the nasty things I want to because I’ve had a pissy day and you’re wearing an Iron Man shirt with sunglasses on. Because of that stupid picture they showed at midnight. Midnight! Why would they show your picture at midnight!? OF ALL THE TIMES TO DO THAT WHY THEN._

_So, yeah, I’m sitting in my freakishly small room that I’ve been given to sleep in for a month (of hell, might I add), and some idiot is playing with music upstairs and I put my TV on just so I could sleep, you know. Have a little white noise. AND THEN YOU JUST HAD TO COME ON._

_Also, please don’t take this personally, Mister James “Bucky” Barnes, because I was lost on the subway, a dog peed on my new boots, and a man grabbed my boobs. Like, what the fuck. New York is a sucky place to live in. It’s worse than Budapest! I’ve decided that I hate it. A lot._

_Okay, now for the ranting bit. Nope, I haven’t even started. At all. (Maybe. I’m really tired. I can’t even think.)_

_I am your soulmate. Yep, I totally am. I remember it a lot, when we met. You were sitting in that dratted chair, looking so lost and confused and now that I think about it, you have that heart breaking puppy dog air about you like, ‘why is nobody paying attention to me, I’m really cute and cuddly’ sort of thing. But that is a good thing. Because we were alone when we traded words, and I’m sure that if somebody saw us do that, some serious bad mojo would have went down._

_Just so you know that it’s actually me, and not some creeper, my first words were ‘Why her’ in Russian. Your’s was ‘Who?’, and that’s on my stomach._

_Okay, now that you know who I am, I will continue. Because I am not a creeper._

_I have spent the last fucking twenty six years looking for you. Kept my ear to the ground, listened for any chatter, everything. Mister, you are the hardest person to find on this godforsaken planet, and the next thing I find out is that you’re in New York, and you’re actually a war hero._

_Congrats on that, btw._

_Anyways._

_After the Shield/Hydra thing, I really didn’t want to know. Like, anything. So. That’s my excuse for not actually finding out that you were out and about and stuff until you first revealed yourself and stuff. Do you know how hard it is to do yoga and look at you on the television? Very. Very hard._

_First off, you’re annoying. Your hair is stupidly long. Get it cut. Or at least know how to put it in a man bun. Please, for the life of me. Do it. Your jawline could cut steel. Maybe even Captain America’s shield. Man, that is serious jawline. And I’ve seen a lot of jawlines. SHAVE. SHAVE OR I WILL CUT SOMEBODY. A BEARD IS SO NOT YOUR LOOK._

_Please don’t give me that grumpy/offended look that men get when we women say that beards are terrible (Ryan Gosling is the only exception). I will say this once, and only once. The only reason why you should shave is because beards feel weird when you kiss, and_ ~~_they cause beard burn down there_ ~~ _yeah. Just shave it. Maybe in a few years after the fangirls have gotten over your biceps, you can have a beard. But for now, spare their ovaries._

_Next bit is really important._

_Don’t be douche. Don’t be offended at everything. Smile more. Things will get better. Treat girls like you’d treat your mama, with terror and respect, and never_ ever _do anything stupid that causes you bodily harm or I will cut you._

_I seriously will._

_I’m tired, and did I mention I hate New York? Yeah, I hate New York._

_-Your Soulmate_

Darcy stared at the letter, before rereading it several times. “This is so stupid.” She said before ripping the pages out violently. Then regretted it. “Damn it.” Darcy sighed, so tired it was utterly pointless to stay awake. Even the girl upstairs had turned her music off.

“You know what, I’ll mess with this later.” Darcy muttered, as she folded the paper up and wrote ‘James Barnes, Avenger’ on the outside so she’d know what it was when she looked at it later. Placing it on her side table, Darcy turned off the TV before turning on her side and sighing. She was out, only seconds later.

* * *

 

When Penny poked her head in Darcy’s room, just to make sure she got back last night, she tutted at the mess on the floor. Maybe Miss Lewis wasn’t as a clean as she originally thought. Darcy herself was out like a light, snoring softly on the bed as Penny came in and straightened her boots and picked up the pants off the floor.

It was nearly noon already, but Darcy had come home late last night. It was, after all, her first day out in New York, and those are always so full of adventure, Penny decided that she should let Miss Lewis sleep in. After she tidied up the room a little, she noticed the bundle of papers folded together with a name on them. Penny picked it up, and smiled.

It seems even Miss Lewis here was a huge fan of the Avengers. She must have written this to that one new boy who just started to live there. It wasn’t that much of a surprise, everybody seemed to have an opinion on them. Most of them idolized the Avengers, but others didn’t like them at all.

Penny looked at the letter and then back to Miss Lewis. She must be so tired. How disappointed would Darcy be if she didn’t get this mailed today? And besides, it was easy to send a simple letter off before the mailman came to pick up today's logs for the city. He could just drop it off somewhere, and it would arrive with all the other fanmail that the Avengers got. Why waste a day, when Penny could just deliver it herself. Miss Lewis would love that. Penny bustled out of the room, where she slipped the letter into an unmarked envelope, and wrote _James Barnes_ and under that, the address to the Avengers Tower up in Manhattan.

And with that, the letter was sent off with a flourish.


	6. Chapter 6

When Darcy woke up, she felt so much better than the day before. Her headache was gone, and all of the stress of they day before had left her.

Of course, when she glanced at her watch and it said 3:17, and it obviously wasn’t in the morning, Darcy completely woke up.

First off, Penny had been clear that Darcy was teaching the girls at 3:30, and Darcy didn’t have her pants on.

There was a whirl of energy as Darcy rolled out of bed and hurriedly looked for her pants. With a quick glance in a mirror, Darcy managed to pull her hair through a brush a few times before she pulled it into a quick ponytail. It was as best as she was going to get at the moment. There was a flurry to get into her sweatpants and a loose t-shirt.

She was out the door within five minutes of waking up.

In class, Darcy was met with a little less resistance and hesitance like yesterday. The timid girls did the yoga just fine, even though Darcy had to switch from her usual poses to help the girl, Coco, who was seven months pregnant. Coco had a bright personality, and was excited for her baby, and shared with any chance that she got. Darcy went to the easier poses that didn’t use too much of the abs, but went with the upper torso and legs.

Most of the rough cut girls had returned, and every once in awhile there was a scathing remark from that side of the room, but Darcy ignored them. Most of it was, ‘ugh can we can’t do this stretchy bit? This isn’t a whore house’ or something akin to that.

New York was definitely different than Cane Beds. But Darcy had had worse happen to her before she came here, so she held her tongue and pretended not to hear it. This time, unlike her last class yesterday, she brought her ipod dock. Music wasn’t as loud as Darcy liked it to be, the kind that would reverberate through her body. No, it was softer, but it still was upbeat. Darcy timed her class to the songs almost perfectly. There wasn’t a single playlist on her ipod that she didn’t know the order of every song.

After warming up, Darcy began the basic maneuvers of ‘how to get out of somebodies hold.’ Some of the girls perked up with that, so she also put in a warning of not going too hard with your partner. Of course, that naturally left Darcy with Coco.

“So if a man comes up behind you and wraps his arms around your body, what do you do?” Darcy came from behind Coco, and put her in a not-so-tight lock.

“Punch him.” A girl answered, as if it was the most obvious question that there was.

“Kick him in the balls.”

“Scream rape.”

“Bite him.”

Darcy grimly smiled. “Sometimes, even those maneuvers won’t help. They’ll attract some attention, but you never know what kind of people you meet out there. Some of them might have the sense to knock you out before dragging you away. Now, a man who stands behind you, you can do a lot of things.” Darcy released Coco, and gestured for her to be behind her. It was awkward, but Coco managed to get her arms around Darcy. “If your arms are trapped to your sides, you can’t use them. Now, you can stomp on their toes.” Darcy mimed the action, “or you bring your elbows to your side and thrust them backwards into their chest.” She did so, only softly touching Coco. “Hopefully by then they’ll be startled enough they’ll let go.”

“What if they don’t?” This time, it was a timid girl who spoke up. It was the first time Darcy had heard her speak.

“Then in that case, scratch, claw, maim, do your best to get away from them and draw as much attention as you can to them. Another way to temporarily stun a man is to clap their ears. It’ll confuse their senses. But once a man is hurt, he either has two options. He’ll run with his tail between his legs. Or he’ll hurt you worse.”

“What if they hurt you really bad, what then?”

Darcy leveled a stare at the girl, her lips pursing. There was a long second, before she replied. “Then kill them.”

The rest of the class went smoothly, and any comments from the ragged girls had stopped. Darcy let them cool off, and went to go take a shower. There was hot water, the shower was clean, and she had a nice soft fluffy towel waiting for her when she was done. It was the most relaxed she’s been since Darcy arrived in New York, and it felt really nice.

Of course, that meant that Darcy wasn’t going to leave this building until she had to fly back to Arizona. Because there was no way she was going to go walk around in that chaotic mess. Sure, there were times where that would be great, like if she was trying to lose a stalker (which happened twice yesterday), but after living in such a remote area, it was difficult to adjust to the population and commotion that was everywhere.

Darcy got dressed in her comfort clothes (which consisted of fuzzy pajama bottoms and an over large sized Hulk t-shirt that went past to her knees) and went back to her room. There wasn’t really much of anything to do in her room, but put her clothes away and maybe turn on the television and hope that the Golden Girls were on rerun.

Instead Darcy got a marathon of Pretty Little Liars, so she was okay with that. The room was a little bit messy from when she had gotten up in such a hurry, and who knew what was on the floor. Once her small bag of clothes were put away, and Darcy made her bed, she made herself comfortable as the slightly discolored TV showed the beginning credits of the show.

There was a knock at the door.

“Miss Lewis?” Penny’s voice could be heard above the music, and Darcy muted the television. The door was opened, and Penny gave Darcy a great smile.

“I didn’t notice that you didn’t come for dinner, is there anything I can get you?” Penny asked, and Darcy realized that she _was_ a little hungry, but she had a bag of gummy worms that she could dig into if she wanted to. All she had recently was a crummy hotdog that didn’t taste right yesterday, and a few glasses of water.

“Oh, I’m just fine.” Darcy said, mostly because she didn’t want to leave the safety of the room. Plus, Penny was staring at her Hulk t-shirt.

“Okay. I’m just checking up on you. That’s all.” Penny said. “And I’m also glad that you support that veteran on the news lately.”

“Veteran?” Darcy asked, her mind scanning on any past conversation that she might have had with Penny. She was pretty sure she didn’t say anything. And the only person she knew who was a vet was Wendy.

“Yes, that one with the long hair. You, know. That brawny guy.”

“Do you mean-,” Darcy glanced back at the TV that still showed Pretty Little Liars, wondering how on Earth this woman knew that Darcy saw him last night on the news. Was there a camera in the room? “James Barnes?”

“Oh yes! That one, with Captain America. Nice fellow. I’m so glad that you’re understanding about his situation.”

Darcy was entirely lost at this point, so just nodded her head and hoped she said the right thing. “Yeah, so few people do.”

“I don’t think you noticed, but there is a therapeutic veterans building just across the street from here.” Penny went on, “maybe you could go over there and meet some of the vets who come here to stay occasionally. Most of them have gotten jobs recently, or have moved on. But they’re nice people, and I know you’d be kind to them.”

“Yeah, maybe tomorrow or something.” Darcy nodded along, still confused as hell.

“Oh that’s good. Ooh! Before I forget, I came in this morning to check up on you, and I saw you wrote a letter to that James Barnes man. I know you’ve had a hard night, everybody does on their first day in New York. So I managed to send it off with the postman this morning.”

Darcy choked.

“You _what?”_ The accusation was covered up with a hoarse strangled noise that emanated from her throat.

“Now that I think about it, maybe you weren’t done writing it. I’m terribly sorry my dear.” Penny apologized as Darcy stared at her in horror. “Do you need a glass of water honey? You seem awfully pale, are you getting enough air.”

“I.” Darcy had to cough again, “I’m fine. I just, you know. Allergies.” Darcy waved her hand in the air and didn’t meet Penny’s eyes.

“That’s too bad. I’m sorry my dear.” Penny said, just as cheerfully as when she arrived. It was as if she hadn’t just dropped the bomb on Darcy. “Anyways, I have to go. I’ll see you later.”

Darcy just nodded with a tight smile, watching as Penny ambled off before shutting her door with a quiet _click_.

The moments after Penny left, Darcy couldn’t quite clearly remember. She knew exactly what she was doing as she tore her bed apart, looking under the pillows or shaking out the blankets in the hope that somehow Penny and mistakenly sent off something else, and the letter would magically fall out onto the floor. She checked under the bed, in her empty suitcase, hurriedly looked through every single drawer, even lifted up the TV to look underneath.

The letter was simply not there.

Darcy couldn’t even remember what she _wrote_! It was a two AM thing of the mind where she just spilled whatever onto the paper in delusions of actually talking to her soulmate, who probably is _reading_ the letter _right_ _now._ It was probably a mesh of utter nonsense and crude and mean spirited things. There wasn’t any way that James Barnes was going to read that letter and not be offended.

After a long and frantic search, Darcy sat on her stripped bare mattress and looked at the wall stunned. The room that had been put away neatly was now a complete mess. It was a perfect representation of her life at that moment.

There was just _one itsy bitsy problem_.

Darcy was, in no way shape or form, a spiteful person. If somebody really ruined her day, she might spit in their coffee as revenge maybe a few months after. There was one thing that she learned after she left the Red Room and that was how to have a _conscience_.

Right now, Darcy wanted nothing more than to just curl up and die, or not have a soul and not feel guilty. But all she could do was stare at the wall and just imagine on what James Barnes could be feeling the moment he read her letter. She was like, 90% sure she said something along the lines of _‘hey, I’m your soulmate, but you won’t believe me but I’ll totally give you some type of evidence that’ll mean that I’m your soulmate. Now listen here, dipshit.’_ Or something akin to that statement. She might have even said sorry a few times too, now that she distantly remembers writing that, but that doesn’t mean that he might even feel _worse_ than he would now.

After all, recent recovery of evil medical 70 years of torture and brainwashing had to lead to some type of depression.

Darcy wanted to curl up into a little tiny ball, tinier than the one above described, and maybe get thrown into the ocean and not wake up for 70+ years. That sounds fantastic.

But there was no question in Darcy’s head that, without a doubt, she was going to have to write him an apology letter. There was no way that her conscious would let her sleep in peace until she did so.

Goddammit.


	7. Chapter 7

_Dear James_ ,

No. That was too formal. Way too formal. Darcy scribbled over the words and started again.

_Dear Bucky,_

No that was too friendly! What could she call him? James? Bucky? Definitely not Barnes, because that sounded like she was bitter or some angry mobster. With flaming pitchfork and everything.

_Dear_

Even that was too formal.

_Hey soulmate,_

Too casual. Darcy wanted to scream and bash her head into the nearest wall. Instead she bit angry on the bottom of her pen and chewed.

_Hey there,_

No. No no no! Darcy stopped and took in a deep breath, ripped the page out and threw it in the trash can. It was full of scribbles anyways. Maybe she should just skip the greeting bit. That might be better.

_I’m sorry._

That sounded okay so far. Better than anything she’s done before.

_I’m sorry. Like, really sorry. There is a 90% chance that I insulted you, and I beg you for forgiveness._

No. Nope that’s like, way too weird. It was like it just came out of an 18th century letter. Better scribble that bit out.

 _I’m sorry. Like, really sorry. There is a 90% chance that I insulted you, and_ ~~ _I beg you for forgiveness_~~ _I didn’t mean for you to even see that letter. By a terrible happen chance, the letter was sent out, without my knowledge. I’m not an mean person, and I’m sure that I made you feel worse than what you’re already feeling._

Maybe it would be better if Darcy didn’t remind him about the 70 years of brainwashing. Ever.

 _I’m sorry. Like, really sorry. There is a 90% chance that I insulted you, and_ ~~ _I beg you for forgiveness_~~ _I didn’t mean for you to even see that letter. By a terrible happen chance, the letter was sent out, without my knowledge. I’m not an mean person, and I’m sure that I_ ~~ _made you feel worse than what you’re already feeling_~~ _insulted you._

_Whatever I said, it was lies and slander._

That’s good. That’s really good. Just pretend nothing happened, and deny everything. Except, there probably no way she could take back what she said about the whole soulmate thing. Great.

 _I’m sorry. Like, really sorry. There is a 90% chance that I insulted you, and_ ~~ _I beg you for forgiveness_~~ _I didn’t mean for you to even see that letter. By a terrible happen chance, the letter was sent out, without my knowledge. I’m not an mean person, and I’m sure that I_ _ ~~made you feel worse than what you’re already~~ feeling_ _insulted you._

~~_Whatever I said, it was lies and slander._ ~~

_I was going to give you time. A lot of time. Tons of time. You know, before I said anything or even approached you._

‘Great job for making you look like a douche! Wonderful Darcy! He probably thinks you’re scared of him or he thinks that you think that he has a mental illness! Good use of the English Language right there.’ Darcy thought sarcastically. She ripped that page out too, and balled it up before throwing it in the basket. This was a lot harder than she thought it would be. Really hard. It’s just, he was her soulmate. The person to have a happily ever after, except it didn’t happen and now she wants to just say ‘I’m sorry’ and that wasn’t coming out.

Darcy was relieved that she wasn’t faced to face with him and apologizing to him that way. At least this way she can say control what she was going to say. But even this wasn’t going the way that Darcy wanted it to.

Gnawing on the end of her pen, Darcy stared at the blank page of paper.

_I’m sorry._

That’s good. Really direct approach. Just don’t stop, write it all out. Stop stopping every sentence and over analyzing.

_I’m sorry. But if you have no idea what I’m sorry about, then if you manage to see a letter that has this handwriting, please for the love god burn it. I was tired, hungry, and it was my first day in New York, and it was sent without my knowledge. It wasn’t how I wanted to contact you for the first time._

_If you haven’t read it, you can stop reading at this point. Burn this letter too. Or feed it to your cat. If you have a cat._

_But if you have read it. I’m really sorry. There isn’t an excuse to cover any insult or stupid thing that I might have said. I might have said something about being your soulmate, and it is true. We met many years ago, and you didn’t do anything to harm me. It was shocking and suprising, because of the place I was in was really bad and I met you several times without talking to you._

_You’re probably thinking that I’m a hydra agent or somebody who was working with them. No. No I am not. The full story calls for a really long talk that will involve a lot of tears and chick flicks and too much icecream that I don’t have the money for. I guess you’ll have to take my word for it. Although, I’m not sure how you’ll trust some girl who sends you an insulting letter (I’m vaguely remembering complaining about Iron Man, but I can’t really recall it). I am_ _not_ _a hydra agent, although I’ve had an unfortunate incident with them._

_So the best thing I can do for you right now is give you some silent support. You’re a good man, James Barnes. Some really crappy things happen to you, I know. But that doesn’t make you any less of a hero in my eyes. I don’t feel like I’m ready to meet you face to face. But just know that I’m out here, doing my thing, and thinking about you._

_-Your soulmate._

Darcy looked it over a few times. It wasn’t necessarily that bad, but it was the best that she had written so far. And it sounded honest, and there wasn’t anything that screamed ‘I am a douche’ out at her. Except maybe calling him a cat person. But maybe he hasn’t caught up to the times yet, and hadn’t realise that it was an insult. If there was anything that Darcy wanted to say about her soulmate, it certainly wasn’t that he was a crazy cat lady. If anything, she could see him with a dog of some sort.

Before she could change her mind about anything that she had written, or even look it over for any spelling or grammar mistakes, Darcy folded it and showed it into an envelope that Penny had let her have. Thankfully it was the simple take off the tape and seal it kind of envelope.

If he really _really_ read these letters, they might run it for DNA matches. Not that they’d get any, any DNA that Darcy might have left behind at a crime scene, she had made sure to delete out of any data base. But still, it wasn’t something she wanted to have floating around.

She put on a stamp on the front, of which Penny had actually traded with her for a few dollars that Darcy had in her pocket. (Who knew that stamps were, like, really expensive?) And without hesitating, Darcy walked out of her room and down to the front desk, and shoved it in the locked box for all outgoing mail.

Immediately Darcy began to panic, because _hello_ , she called her soulmate a crazy cat lady! Oh man, she knew she should have re-written it. At least check for any grammar.

Before Darcy got the great idea of picking the lock and taking back her letter, Penny wattled in from where ever she came from and cheerily started a conversation. It was after midnight, so Penny gave Darcy a warning that if she was caught out of bed with lights out, she might not get lunch the next day. (Which, of course, Darcy was fine with because all they had for lunch every single day was ‘build your own sandwiches.’)

Darcy scuttled back to her room, where she threw herself on to the bed and firmly told herself, ‘ _this is going to be the last letter I send out. Ever. No more. Nada. I can’t handle the stress of writing these things.’_

She managed to fall asleep around 4 AM, after watching cat videos on youtube to calm herself down. (It didn’t help that she had a crazy dream that her soulmate was riding on a back of a cat, shooting of a rifle at any bad guy within a fifty mile radius.)


	8. Chapter 8

It was a week after she sent the second letter, did Darcy break her promise. First off, she had an excuse. The week that she spent in New York was absolutely hellish.

It had started the day after she sent off the second letter. It was getting increasingly annoying to stay in the women’s shelter. Things didn’t happen right, it was frustrating to understand some of the girls. Her purse was stolen. Her room was broken into and some of her stuff went missing. The oven burned her brownies. One of her boots was found with a heel broken. Somebody had went in and _stole_ the cookies right from the oven. Her lipstick was gone, and a few days later a girl was wearing some the _exact shade_ and claimed she got it sent to her from her boyfriend. There was absolutely _no_ privacy, even in the shower!

Frustration and anger kept on building up and up until Darcy finally slipped out of bed at three AM. The empty room that Darcy used as her classroom was huge and dark, making it feel like Darcy was _that_ much more alone. To be honest, she was used to that feeling. But tonight, it was a blessing. It was like a cool wet cloth applied to a feverish forehead. In the quietness of the room, and the only music was Darcy’s only beating heart, she danced.

Sure, Darcy enjoyed hiphop or grind and sway like anybody else. Those were for the days that she needed to feel _normal_ and carefree. Now, at the moment, Darcy need to lose herself. Closing her eyes, Darcy took a deep breath before holding out her arms in first position, her feet angled away from each other. With another deep breath, she opened to second position, similar to the first, but this time her legs were wider and her arms up. Third position. Fifth position. Fourth position. First position.

And suddenly, Tchaikovsky began to play. Darcy wasn’t in New York anymore, she was in Russia. The studio was full of light and laughter, as other girls in tutus and makeup walked around. It was bright, and suddenly she was 13 again. The happier days, where all of the 28 girls were still alive. Before they all were remembering the horrors. 6 was there, in a white tutu and smiling. Chatting with another girl that made Darcy’s heart ache, number 21. Finally an instructor clapped her hands, and all of them fell into order. The music swirled around 13.

As the song began to play, faces soon disappeared. Girls would vanish, but 13 didn’t care. She was _dancing_. Whirling around in tight pirouette’s. Her neck stiff and her chin held high, 13 didn’t care about anything anymore. This was her _life_. Dancing was _everything_. She opened her eyes and saw 21 give her a smile with her doe brown eyes before breaking eye contact and she left.

Something inside of 13’s heart ached. But she kept her chin held high and her gaze lowered as she executed a arabesque. And then, after that it was just 13 and 6. A pas de deux. Dance for two. They were older now, and the light had faded a little, making it feel gray. 6 wasn’t wearing a white tutu anymore, but black. It matched her hair and her fiery green eyes.

The two dancers moved in a fluid motion together, as if they had practiced this all their lives. It was deceivingly beautiful, as the two girls moved across the floor as everything began to turn into gray ash. The song started to slow, the crescendo was falling. 13 turned towards 6, her eyes shut because she knew this by heart. Her hands went out, seeking 6’s for the part where she would dip 6 and they would separate for the final time.

Instead, strong hands, much bigger than 6’s took her by the hands and dipped _her_ instead. 13’s eyes opened in astonishment to look into the gray blue eyes of the Winter Soldier, his face blank as the first time they had met. His mouth quirked up into a smile, and that was when the fantasy broke and 13 was Darcy Lewis again.

She was alone, but this time it wasn’t a breath of fresh air. It felt more like she was suffocating.

She stood there, in the empty room that looked so much bigger and desolate in the dark. The broken down room created shadows where there wasn’t any before. Darcy took a long time before she moved again. There was a sigh, and Darcy walked out of the room. She couldn’t sleep after that, even though she tried as she tossed and turned.

Her thoughts were too loud inside her head. Until finally, she gave in as she picked her notebook off of the floor and absently flipped to an empty page. The sky outside was just turning gray, more than enough light for Darcy to see. Whatever happened in the Red Room had enhanced her night vision.

_Dear soulmate,_

_Sorry I’m bothering you again. But I couldn’t sleep. I sometimes wonder if you can’t sleep too. It’s like that thing on the internet, like for long distance couples. They like to say the same things, over and over again but in different ways. For instance, I know this girl who lives in Alabama who used to say, “if I ever get lonely, I’ll look up at the sun or the moon or the stars, and know that maybe at that moment, my lover will be doing the same thing. It’s a huge place, up there in space, and maybe we’re seeing the same things.”_

_I always thought that was silly. When I was younger, I was taught that love was a game. It might be fun at sometimes, it might bring happiness at others, but you might skin your knee and it’ll hurt. But it all was just a game, and there wasn’t anything more to it. I’ve had bad experiences with love. But not in the way that you’re thinking. His name was Doug, and he was my pet dog._

_Shut up. I can basically feel you judging me on this._

_Doug is an awesome name._

_Anyways, I guess he was the first real person I felt close to, for a really long time. (Yes, Doug counts as a person.) He had this really annoying habit of digging holes in my backyard. I’d always fill them up, but a few days later another would be found. I still loved him, a lot in his doggy ways. But one day, I didn’t see a hole he made. I had left to go grocery shopping and when I got back, he was in the street. Doug didn’t survive. It really,_ really hurt.

_Wow. Since when did I start talking about love and my pet dog who died? This is very depressing. Let’s change the subject. And besides, those are strictly fourth date conversations. You have to level up to talk more about those, mister._

_So, I have a few questions for you. Probably to never answer, but questions nonetheless. First off, what should I call you? Soulmate seems like it’s vague and love letter-y (which this is not, btw. If I was trying to send you any hypothetical love, it would be in the form of cat pictures and the occasional meme), and James Barnes feels like it’s a letter from the tax collectors. Bucky, which is a ridiculous nickname (whatever happened to good old ‘Jimmy’ or ‘Jim’? Huh? Huh? I’m looking at you), feels like it’s too friendly and blah. Barnes feels like I’m saying Barnes and Noble, which kinda makes me sad because I think that store is going out of business. So I guess you’ll be stuck as soulmate forever and be as vague and (non) love letter-y._

_Second question, where on earth can I find a stupid pizza parlour that isn’t either infested with cockroaches or filled to the brim of people? I give you this mission, because I know you’ll find the perfect place._

_Third question, I saw this picture of Steve Rogers today in the tightest shirt I’ve ever seen. Can you ask him to please ask him why he always seems to either wear grandpa clothing or extreme triathlon athlete workout clothes. It’s always between those two. (I bet he’s terrible at being inconspicuous.) There is nothing else._

_Fourth, who let Tony Stark model for a nude magazine? That was front headlines of the newspaper. Like, I could have gone about my day in innocence but then I just had to see his ass. My eyes are scarred forever. I am forever blind. (If anything, you should one up him by getting you and your buddy to do some pictures of your own. Nothing below the beltline, just take pictures of your torso. I also want picture evidence of Stark’s face when he see them. (I’d bet he’d drool))_

_Yeah, maybe this is getting a little too weird. But this is making me snicker to myself, and I’ve had another bad week here in New York. Although, I don’t think it’s different for you, I saw that internet picture of you covered in that alien gunk down in Boston. You had that drowned cat look. Plus,_ ~~_Natal_~~ _Natasha was perfectly gunk free next to you, so that totally made my day. Did you know that she’s my favorite Avenger? Yeah, I’m sorry. You have nothing on her._

_People are moving, and I hear some shouting. Why do people have to be up so early? Anyways, I’ve got to go. Smile more (I need something to keep on my lock screen)._

_-Your soulmate_


	9. Chapter 9

After that, it was like Darcy couldn’t stop herself from writing the letters. She finally felt like she was some kind of addict, where she knew that she really  _ shouldn’t _ do this, but did it anyways. It was calming, like dancing, but every time she managed to sneak in a reference to something that he probably didn’t know or make some kind of dry joke, she’d get this pleasant happy feeling. And she laughed a lot. By herself. Alone. She might have scared a few people.

However, she always wrote it in the middle of the night, when things were quieter, or there wasn’t a chance that somebody would sneak into her room and read her private things. The letters were also getting longer, from what started as a page, turned into three pages. Three into four. It was starting to get a little ridiculous, and Darcy started getting cramps in her hand.

It was maybe a week later, and Darcy was not only out of paper, but envelopes, and Penny started to give her the sad look whenever Darcy asked for more stamps. The only plausible thing that Darcy had to do was brave the outside world again. And maybe it was the time spent in the hectic household of the women’s shelter, or maybe the music that played on all hours of the night, but Darcy was surprised on how less stressful it was. Sure it was crowded, and the subways still confused the hell out of her, but it wasn’t as terrible as it was on her first day.

She googled a post office, and was surprised that there was one just a few blocks away from her, and Darcy wouldn’t have to call a cab. (She was prepared to do so, since her comfortable shoes were destroyed and she was wearing a pair of flip flops she tossed into her bag, and she hadn’t broken them in yet and would probably get blisters.) The part of Brooklyn of where she was at was much quieter than Manhattan. (Probably why all the bad guys always target that part of the city instead.) She got some paper, a box of 24 envelopes and a package of stamps.

Finally, Darcy was adjusting to New York. The constant low level noise, the bustle of the people, the persistent smell of gas and the occasional wiff of garbage. Of course, there was the unnatural attraction that men off the street gave her, but Darcy wasn’t really concerned with that. She could easily take them down, and most of the men here were wimps when it came to pain. Darcy even stopped at a small store and stocked up on some things that had gone missing. She even managed to get a new doorknob, with a different lock. Maybe that would finally keep the girls out of her room. (Because if they rifled through her underwear drawer  _ one more time,  _ hell was going to be raised.)

Already, there was a plan to figure out  _ who _ kept on stealing her stuff. Darcy knew that it probably wasn’t the timid girls, they didn’t really leave their room except for food or to go find a job. No, it was probably the ragged girls, they probably sold her stuff to the nearest thrift store so they could get their drugs.

Besides, this could be an interesting story to tell James. Darcy really couldn’t just think ‘soulmate’ whenever she wanted to refer to him. So James was the best option, unless she found some nickname that probably wouldn’t offend him.

That night, Darcy made some cupcakes. With frosting and everything. They were her famous homemade chocolate chip caramel cupcakes. It was moist, sugary, and everything that the women's shelter didn’t serve. (Which was basically spaghetti every night and some type of canned fruit. Not very appetizing.)

Of course, within a few minutes of Darcy leaving the room to go get the sprinkles, only three were left.They had just gotten out of the oven, and were still piping hot. Darcy stared at the empty rack, and a slow smile worked it’s way across her face. It was hard to keep up the act of being angry, or frustrated, but Darcy slammed a few pots and pans to make sure everybody in the building knew of her displeasure.

After that, Darcy went to her room and installed the new doorknob. The lock wasn’t the best, and a little too expensive for it’s quality, but in Darcy’s opinion it was the best thing she bought all day. It was either that, or the laxative she put in the cupcakes.

She couldn’t help but hum to herself cheerily as she screwed the new doorknob into place, sliding a tiny piece of metal inside, so it made it a little difficult to open the door. Even if they girls picked her door, it would be difficult to open it. It was a trick she learned in China, so you’d have to jimmy the door at least a few minutes before it would open. It would be really hard to pick it, but it would be worth it too keep them out of her personal space.

After she tried it out a few times, and got the hang of it, she finally closed the door behind her in the small room, and flopped onto the bed. There was a bunch of junk food in plastic bags by her feet, enough to (hopefully) make it through a week or two. (The munchies had been plaguing her for days, and yesterday somebody had taken her last piece of gum. It had been the last straw.)

Pulling out her phone, Darcy googled her soulmate. Maybe somebody had finally gotten a picture of him smiling, or in those running shorts that wasn’t a complete blur. Because, wow. Manly legs. Total yum.

The first thing that popped up was curious. It was a news article that simply said,  _ James Barnes and Steve Rogers Breaks The Internet _ , and if that wasn’t enticing enough, it was the fact that it was made about three hours ago. It took a moment for her phone to load the page, because she was using her data, and the room wasn’t exactly the best place for the satellites to reach her. Once it loaded, Darcy skimmed the article. Blah, blah, blah. Oh, wait. He has a twitter account? Darcy didn’t know he had a twitter account. Maybe it was a new thing.

And then the picture. For one really long moment, Darcy stared at the picture, her eyes getting increasingly wide. It was James, and his friend Steve, both bare chested. They faced the camera, with wide shit eating smirks across their faces. No, no this wasn’t the shocking part. It was the bit where the picture showed them without any shirts on. It stopped right above the waist, but she easily could tell that they  _ weren’t wearing any pants. _

_ Oh my god. _

Just above the picture was the text for the tweet. Darcy read it with increasing alarm.  _ Thanks for the suggestion, s. #BeatThatIronMan #BrooklynBoys #We’reOnlyWearingSocks _

Heart pounding, maybe just because of the picture, Darcy clicked on the link to James Barnes’ twitter account. There were maybe only three tweets, but already there were thousands of retweets and likes on them. He already had 3.5 million followers, even though he joined maybe four days ago. The second was only replying to a tweet that Stark had made, something about old men finally getting onto social media. The first tweet was in Russian, but it translated easily in Darcy’s head.

_ Thank you for the letters, s. _

Darcy clicked her phone screen off, and pressed the device to her chest. Took one long calming breath, and pushed her face into her pillow and screamed. She clutched her device, until her knuckles were white (somewhere in the back of her head she was surprised that it didn’t break under the pressure), and tried to relieve the panic that was bubbling up into her chest.

He was getting her letters.

Darcy curled up into a ball, trying to take calming breaths as she stared up at the ceiling. Mix emotions were buzzing under her skin. Embarrassment. Anxiety. Panic. Surprise. But the one that she struggled with the most was hope.

She knew that she won’t get her happily ever after. But on this hot afternoon day in Brooklyn, Darcy finally let herself hope that something good might come out of this. Just for this day. After this, she’d push it out of her head. But for now, she’d let herself dream. Darcy smiled to herself, probably a goofy dopey smile, as she brought her phone to her lips. (She would forever deny that she giggled.)

(It took her three minutes and forty seconds to turn her phone back on so she could properly oogle her soulmate, in all of his naked chest glory.)

 


	10. Chapter 10

It came out of the blue.

The first letter.

It was in an envelope, with cursive on the front stating it’s course to the Avengers Tower, a stamp on the side, and a postal mark that said that it had been delivered four days ago. It wasn’t much of a surprise on the delay, mostly because contrary to what people think, Bucky didn’t live in the Tower.

No, he and Steve lived in a modest house in upper Brooklyn. They both paid for it out of their own wallets, which made it a lot more enjoyable to live at instead the Tower. (With the added bonus that they annoyed Tony. “I just got you to live here, and now you’re going to leave? I need the full collection of the Avengers, or it isn’t going to be complete!”)

So, the delay on the letter wasn’t out of the ordinary. All fan letters got sent to the Tower, and every so often, maybe twice a week, they would send a bag over with letters and Steve would sit down and diligently open them all and carefully send out replies. Bucky didn’t touch his pile. It was small compared to Steve’s, and most of the time it was hate mail. So Steve would be the first one to read them all, and occasionally he’d crumple them up into balls and go hit up the gym three blocks away.

(Bucky would always uncrumple the letter and read what they wrote. Sometimes it made him feel miserable, because this was a relative of somebody who he had killed and they wanted him to answer for his actions. Other times he’d want to go with Steve and punch some bags as well. But he was always sure to crumple it back up and place it in the spot where Steve had thrown it. If his friend knew he had read those letters, he wouldnt read or write in the living room again. From hazy memories, Bucky knew that Steve would hide them away, until Bucky was out before going through them all. Punk.)

And so, it was Steve who read it first. Bucky was watching him from the corner of his eye, always watching when it came to when Steve read those letters. The second Steve’s eyes ran across the page once, his eyebrows shot up.

“What is it.” He asked, startling Steve as he looked up at his friend with those puppy dog eyes.

“It’s uh. Nothing. I guess it’s the start of your fanclub.” Steve shrugged, going back to the letter as he read the sloppy handwriting. “I didn’t think you’d get one of these so soon.” 

“What is it?” This time he was intrigued, and it came out more as a question.

“Well, it’s your first soulmate letter. They say that you’re their soulmate.” Steve finished skimming the letter.

“Really? Is it nice? Does it say where we met?” Bucky asked, a little sarcastically.

“Not really. It just says what you said, and what she said. And it’s more insulting than flattery.” Steve shrugged. 

“Read it. I wanna know.” Bucky gave a smile to Steve, who seemed to light up at the emotion Bucky gave him. “Besides, it’s my first fan letter from some crazy girl.”

Steve smiled to himself as he cleared his throat. “Dear soulmate.”

“Wow, they’re certainly getting ahead of themselves, aren’t they.” Bucky snorted, but motioned for Steve to continue.

“Or asshole. Either of which would suit you perfectly. Wow Buck, she’s got you spot on.” 

“Shut up and read the damn letter, Punk.”

“Whatever, Jerk.” Steve chuckled, and continued to read into the letter. It was kinda funny, but somewhat a little mean. When it got to the point where it mentioned what Bucky looked like when they first met, Steve stumbled over the words, ‘ _ that dratted chair _ .’ The next paragraph made Bucky sit up from his relaxed position in the chair.

“Wait. Repeat that bit.” Buck asked, a puzzled look on his face.

“My first words were ‘Why her’ in Russian. Your’s was ‘Who?’, and that is on my stomach.” Steve repeated, peering over at his friend. “Why, what’s wrong?”

“Those-” Bucky blinked, “those are my words.” His metal hand settled on where the words were wrapped around his calf.

“Do you think-?” Steve’s hands unconsciously crumpled the letter. “Do you think Hydra sent this?”

“I don’t know.” Bucky was pale. His heart skipped a few beats, but calmed. He had more control over his body than to let his heart race. “I think we should have Nat look over this, before you read any more.”

“Triggers?”

“There might be.”

“I don’t see any Russian in here.” Steve went back to the crumpled letter and re-read it. “Or any weird phrases.”

“I don’t want to take the chance.” Bucky’s grip tightened. “But Steve, what if it really is-”

“I don’t think so.” Steve cut in, his voice thin and sharp. “Think about it, if Hydra really let your soulmate near you, they would have made you kill her. And she sounds like a civilian. She even mentions the chair.”

“So this is some type of ploy?”

“Well, I think they’re pulling strings. This entire thing is full of insults!”

“How do they even know that I’ll read it?”

“A gamble. We’ll have to put a watch out for any letters that have this handwriting.” Steve pursed his lips. “We’ll have Nat look at this for any hidden phrases. Maybe they want you to finish…” He trailed off.

“My last mission.” Bucky sighed defeatedly. “Yeah, I know. You don’t have to worry about that, Stevie.” He stood up, “I’ll go text Nat to see if she’s free. I’m going to go hit the gym.”

Fucking Hydra. Soulmates were a touchy subject, in almost every single Country. They were revered, loved, and even worshiped in some parts of the world. And they had to just go  _ that _ low to claim to be his soulmate. He didn’t even have a soulmate back in the 1940’s, he was a blank. Even Steve has some issues when it comes to his soulmates, Peggy Carter was actually on her deathbed with a tumor in her brain and then there's the fucked up platonic that was suppose to be him. It really  _ pissed _ him off in the fact that they even mentioned soulmate in some type of trap. They kept on trying to capture him, so they could use him again, but don’t they ever get the idea that maybe they should just shoot to kill now?

Bucky snarled to himself once he was in the gym, and punched the punching bag. The chain broke, and the bag flew into the wall.

Damn Hydra.

* * *

 

The second letter was actually in the same pile as the first, but this time it was in the same handwriting on the envelope. Nat read it first when she came over, her eyebrows flying up as she read the letters.

“Well, boys. Looks like you got your first obsessive fangirl.” Nat placed the letters on the counter in front of the two super soldiers.

“So it isn’t Hydra?” Steve asked, and Natasha narrowed her eyes at him dangerously.

“I didn’t say that. With some of the causal information that she has slipped in the letters, she knows Hydra. She knows about the chair, but so does everybody that has access to the internet. You used the chair as evidence for Bucky’s trial, so that is public information. But what isn’t public is your words.”

“So she might be my soulmate?”

“I highly doubt it. I think she might have gotten some type of information about you, maybe some file lying around somewhere. Whoever this person is, they have connections.”

“So Hydra.”

“No, not really.” Nat shrugged, “what I’m trying to say is that you can’t really tell. She sounds like a normal civilian, there aren’t any trigger words. But I think you won’t get any letters for a while, see how she ended the second letter? ‘The best thing I can give you right now is silent support.’ And then later it says, ‘I don’t feel ready to meet you face to face.’ She won’t be a problem anymore.”

“So there won’t be any more letters?” Bucky asked.

“For a while. I wouldn't think much about this, these things get sent all the time, Yasha. I can’t tell you how many of these I get all the time.” Natasha grabbed her purse, and put her sunglasses.

“Hey, aren’t those Tony's?” Steve asked, pointing at the sunglasses. Natasha just mysteriously smiled and left the house.

After that, Bucky forgot the letters. He put them in a box with other letters that were drawings mostly from kids, and left them there. It was just a lie, and he was pretty sure he’d (hopefully) be a little less messed up in the head when he met his soulmate. Maybe he’d actually be worth something when she met him. Or him.

A few weeks passed, New York was attacked a few times. Not really bad attacks, mostly some pathetic attempts to rule a certain bit of the city. Of course, the cops and law enforcement always pushed the crazies at the Avengers so they didn’t have to be responsible for the damages. Which Tony always footed the bill for.

They were just eating some pizza, and starting up an episode of MASH when Natasha waltzed into their house. All she held up were three letters with the scribbly handwriting in purple pen, and they turned off Netflix.

“She sent more.” Natasha stated the obvious, popping open the seal and pulled out a few sheets of paper. Her eyes scanned the contents, her lips quirking up into a smile. “She’s funny. But…” The smile was gone.

“What.”

“That Hydra thing might more plausible.” Nat said,”she says, ‘I give you this mission.’”

“What for?” Steve asked as Bucky took in a sharp breath.

“She wants him to find a pizza parlor that doesn’t have cockroaches or overflowing with people.” She said in a dry voice. “Not really that big, but then again it might be a move to see if Yasha might be compliant into doing what she says.”

“So Hydra.”

“I’m not  _ saying _ it’s Hydra. I’m just saying that because of the wording it might be,  _ or _ it could be a completely innocent civilian.” Natasha said exasperated. “We just have to keep an open mind about this. I mean, look at this letter.” She had the second letter in her hand, “listen.  _ ‘Somebody stole my cookies from the oven. You don’t understand, I love baking. And these cookies were going to be awesome and fix my munchies and crunchies and you’re probably just rolling your eyes at me, but this is a big deal. If you ever eaten any of my cookies, then you’d would take my side because they are just  _ that  _ good. _ ’ Does this really sound like a Hydra agent?”

“Well, Shield didn’t sound like it was Hydra.” Steve crossed his arms, “they fooled us all. What makes you so sure that this isn’t a trap?”

“Because there is a possibility that it isn’t. Yes, I am suspicious about this, she knows more than she should. But there isn’t anything in here that would benefit Hydra from this, she hasn’t even asked any prying questions. All she’s asked is what she should call you. I don’t see any evil intent coming from this.”

“But-” Bucky started this time, but Natasha threw her hands into the air.

“Damn stubborn super soldiers!” She grumbled, “okay fine! But when you get to the end of this road, and you find out that it’s just some teenage girl who has some overactive imagination, you’ll be answering to me.”

“Then how did she know my words?!” Bucky snapped, “if she isn’t Hydra, then what is she?!”

Natasha blankly looked at him carefully, long enough for Bucky to regret snapping at her. Then finally she shook her head. “Then she’s your soulmate.”

“But we don’t  _ know _ that.” Steve crossed his arms, giving Natasha his best ‘America is disappointed in you’ look. “We can’t just put her name in the system and have it check to see if she’s ever had a parking ticket, let alone Hydra. We can’t contact her, all we got was that the letters were delivered from Brooklyn.”

Natasha rolled her eyes at Steve’s dramatics, and Bucky actually felt like joining her. Steve was too cautious about this, and there was a high chance that this was just a normal girl. But the chance that this was some type of game was even higher.

“Okay, so you want to contact her. Here.” She held her hand out to Bucky, “phone.” He fished the Starkphone from his pocket and handed it over. Natasha clicked it on, and put in Bucky’s password, which wasn’t a surprise that she knew it. “This girl didn’t leave any address or way to respond to her in a  _ private _ way. But there isn’t a chance that she doesn’t occasionally look you up, Yasha. It even says so in a letter.”

Bucky glanced down at a page, and read the scribbly handwriting until it said, ‘ _do you ever just find yourself googling you? I’ve done that a few times. Most of them are just facebook or instagram pictures that come up. Once, even my tumblr appeared, but I quickly shut it down. There are some posts out there that shouldn’t be connected to my name. Ever. At all. And where was I going with this? Oh yeah, I google you. Occasionally. Okay, so like maybe every day. But only once, because I work a lot! ~~So, that isn’t really creeper like, now is it?~~_ ~~ _Yeah it actually is_~~ _Btw, that Jameson dude working on the Bugle? Don’t ever take any offer to do an interview with them. Have you seen what they’ve done to Spiderman? It’s like vaccines and autism. Even though it is proven countless times that vaccines do not cause autism or mental illness, people still firmly believe in that shit. No matter what that poor guy does, a lot of people are still going to hate him because he’s a ‘menace.’_ ’

Natasha handed Bucky back his phone and he looked at a blue icon of a bird. “What is this?”

“Welcome to social media. It’s twitter. You can’t speak to her privately, because even though she left us dozens of clues in her letters, what you can do is speak to her in public. That’s how she gets information about you. This app will let you send out very tiny messages, and she’ll see them.”

“So…” Bucky pressed on the screen where it said create new account. “She’s going to read what I say?”

“Who knows?” Natasha shrugs. “But make sure you post a few things that could only come from you, and not some poser who wants to make a fake twitter account. Like a few pictures. Those will confirm your identity pretty fast.”

“Okay.” Bucky said, “now, what is a username and why is it saying I can’t use Bucky Barnes?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MUAHAHAHA MISCOMMUNICATION AND SUSPICION. Yeah, this is what's happening. Poor Darcy... ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Job is still continuing to stress me out. I also hate anxiety. But things will be happening soon!! :D
> 
> Comments?


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo. Uh, rape warning. Diving more into what the Red Room did and stuff. Yep.

It was two weeks and four days into Darcy’s stay in New York, when the first nightmares finally came.

It was a surprise that they hadn’t come earlier.

They always started with the two ballerinas. At first, she’d be seeing them across the room. The room was brightly lit, with a wooden floor that was scuffed, but taken care of. A girl with cropped blond hair aimed a gun at the brunette, and sudden Darcy was back in her body. She stared at 21, with her determined brown eyes glinting in the harsh light.

Then, “I’m sorry,” she would whisper, as she lowered the gun and showed a sign of weakness to the matron and men who was watching. Her voice was soft and velvety, reminding 13 of all the times that 21 and her had been partners and friends. All the times that 21 had held her in the dark of the night, and had roused her awake before the matrons came in the morning.

“I’m sorry,” 21 says, because now it is 13’s duty to kill her. And if she doesn’t they are both dead.

“I’m sorry.” 21 says, as 13 grips the knife and doesn’t cry as she darts forwards and gives 21 a quick death. She whispers one last word, before gargling on her blood. Her beautiful brown eyes, still soft with kindness turn glassy and unseeing.

13 doesn’t cry. Even when the Matron and the men hurt her because 21’s death should have been slower and drawn out. 13 doesn’t cry even when they put her in the chair, her bloody back pressing harshly against the leather seat as they put a mouth guard in her open mouth.

It is only after, when she is blank, lost, and confused does she start crying. They all think it was because of the pain of the chair. They let her cry. Her body is hurting, and her mind is white, and she doesn’t remember why she’s so sad.

That night, she remembers blood on a tutu, and she wakes up with her face being pressed into a pillow by another girl to muffle her wailing.

13 doesn’t cry after that. Not for a few years, until her body has started to develop and several girls were dead. There were four of them left. 6, 7, 13, and 18. 7 has beautiful black hair, an attribute that she loves so much. They all were turning into women, and the martons relented more food to them. But the martons find out that 7 likes her hair, so they chopped it all up. 7 didn’t even whimper, so they gave all the girls fruit for a treat.

It was the first time that 13 had a pear. It was tasty, a flavor that she never could describe. But it wasn’t because the matrons were being kind. They were fattening them up so they were desirable. The taste was sweet until it turned rancid in her mouth as her dream changed.

“What are black widows.” Matrons would say every morning, since the beginning of 13’s memories. “Black widows devour. They are poison. They are the danger. They are the predator that preys on the men. They are disguised. Black widows is what you are aiming to be.”

13 never has, nor ever was, sheltered by the disgusting habits of men. They were greedy. Disgusting. Pigs. But they hadn’t touched her. They whispered about her, and the other girls. Unlucky 13. Devil 6. They had names for the other girls, but they didn’t have anything to do with their numbers.

It was when 13 had her first monthly blood, when the matrons decided they were more than ready. The training part of their stay in the Red Room was completed. They could kill, hurt, maim, seduce, lure, and to the men, bewitch.

The trials were held again, and this time only two came out of the room alive. 6 and 13 had each others backs, but if one was killed, the other would take out the one who did it. Even if it meant that only one survived.

The dream changed, and 13 was hooked up to IV’s, her entire body felt like it was on fire. Her skin itched and burned. Before they had restrained her, she had scratched at her face until it was bleeding. 6 was in a similar position, albeit a little quieter than 13, but still in agony.

It was one of the moments were 13 seriously thought she was going to die. No amount of skill, energy, determination was going to get her out of this one. She was helpless. The days after that were a blur, full of pain and the occasional light that was shined into her eyes.

After that, 13 didn’t have her monthly bleeding again. 6 and 13 rested, then the men came.

Darcy always woke up after they pushed their hands down her shirt.

Her body felt hot, but the sweat felt like ice. Darcy stared up at the ceiling above her, not moving. She is in New York, in a women's shelter. She wasn’t in Russia. But the whispers of the touch prickled down her skin, and Darcy took in a long breath and held it.

Womens shelter.

Brooklyn.

New York. Eleventh state.

United States. North America.

  1. Almost 2015.



Darcy let go of the breath, letting her burning lungs get a break. She brought her arm to her chest, and rubbed at her wrist where the phantom feeling of handcuffs rested. Her body was too strung to go back to sleep, and she didn’t want the nightmares to come and visit again. No, they were memories, one that she tried very hard to repress. But the night air was cool, too cold for Darcy willing to get out of the warm bed. And she didn’t want to dance, the memories were just too fresh in her head.

Twisting around in her bed, Darcy clicked on her phone and had to blink away tears at the bright screen. She always forgot to dim the screen before dropping off. The clock proclaimed it was 3:42 in her hello kitty theme, and she put in the code to unlock her phone. Without much hesitation, Darcy opened Twitter. She got a few likes from her own tweets that’s she’s made, which was always nice. She barely glanced at them before going to her feed and scrolling down.

_Bucky Barnes_

_@OfficalBBarnes_

_It’s a huge place, up there in space maybe we’re seeing the same things. #rhymes #cantsleep #thinkingofyou_

It was listed that it was posted seventeen minutes ago. Darcy could feel her cheeks heating up, and for a second she was about to reply to him. But then stopped, and stares at the screen, reading and rereading the same text over and over again. He had quoted her from her letter. The very same part when she was mentioning if they were awake at the same time.

Her heart thumped loudly.

A hesitant, but wide, smile appeared on Darcy’s face as she reread it again. He was thinking about her. He couldn’t sleep too. And it rhymed. He was reading her letters. Darcy laughed a little to herself, holding the phone to her chest as if she was hugging him in real life. Her heart was beating rapidly, and Darcy could just suddenly _see_ it. Meeting him. Maybe some place in New York, a quiet cafe, or the park. Maybe she’d be there first, and waiting for him. And he’d be there, and she turn around and he’d give her a smile and say, “hey” in that gravelly voice of his.

Or maybe, it wasn’t even like that at all. Maybe she’d meet him randomly, when he was running around and he’d accidentally bumped into her, and their skin would touch and he’d _know_. And they’d go grab a cup of coffee while Darcy would explain everything to him. How she was the other girl he trained, how she was in the Red Room. How they met, and he’d _remember_ her. And then-

No. No wait. Maybe he was looking for her. She would be in class, and sudden Penny would knock at the door and Darcy would be all sweaty and disgusting and he’d be at the front desk with his sleeves rolled up and baring his muscles. And his hair would be up in a bun. And he’d give her that shit eating grin like in the first picture and say, “hey sweetheart,” and she’d be so embarrassed that she’s all sweaty and has boob sweat on her shirt but he wouldn't care.

Darcy couldn’t help smile to herself. Maybe their first date would be terrible. Something would happen, and he’d leave her in the restaurant and go and save the world, but she’d wouldn't let that happen and she’d go with him and shoot some bad guys. Or he’d accidentally ate a pepper that was too hot, and his face would get so red and he’d drink all the water.

Or! Or oooh! She’d be walking the streets of Brooklyn and some douchebag was hitting on her and he would come and save her and chase the d-bag away. And he’d ask her for coffee, not knowing who she is and then she’d casually touch his hand and-

Darcy opened her eyes and suddenly lost her smile. Her heart was trying it’s best to get out of her chest. She kept on getting all of these happy feelings.

Oh god no.

Darcy sat up in bed, her hand flying up to try and hold her chest together as her heart tried to beat it’s way out. No. No way. She hasn’t even met him yet. He doesn’t know _who_ she was yet. There is no way that she might have _feelings_ for him yet. They only talked once, and he like, broke her arm before in the Red Room.

‘ _He is your soulmate_ ,’ a sensible voice said. ‘ _It’s only natural that you're attracted to him._ ’ No. Well. Everybody had a crush on him, he had that broken hotty look that attracts women from all ages. Even Penny has a crush on him. ‘ _He read your letters. He’s answering to your letters. He isn’t scared by all the gibberish you’ve sent him._ ’

This wasn’t suppose to happen. Darcy was fairly sure that this was true. The feelings that she was… feeling. It wasn’t suppose to start. He’s only sent out a few tweets out there, not love confessions.

But one thing was certain. Darcy really, really wanted to meet up with him. Just so she can clear the air, that sort of thing. That’s all. And maybe exchange phone numbers, so she doesn’t have to send letters every day to answer a question, and he doesn’t have the whole world taking screenshots of his tweets. Maybe ask if he’d like to meet up again. It doesn’t have to be instant relationship, because that’s one thing that Darcy’s hated about soulmates. Meet and greet and get married in one day. They’ll take it slow.

But it would be super weird if Darcy just wrote, ‘ _hey let’s meet up, since you obviously want to talk to me and I want to see how you are in the twenty-six years I’ve been looking for you. Also, do you like dogs?’_ Yeah, no. Not going to happen. If he wanted to meet up, he was going to have to take the first step.

Even if it was going to be on twitter.

 


	12. Chapter 12

_Dear soulmate,_

_Today I did some crazy things. But I would like to start off with the fact that you quoted from a letter of mine. You see, I had a nightmare, and I woke up and saw less than twenty minutes before you had posted that tweet. It was sweet. (It also wants me to introduce you to Netflix and all of it’s wonders.) So I’d like to thank you for that. It was very nice to wake up to that._

_So, continuing farther into my daily schedule, it was basically all the same. I managed to teach the thieves with some easy pranks, although I think they’re just blaming the fact that I cooked in the first place. (Maybe you shouldn’t have stolen those cupcakes. Tisk tisk.)_

_It was my day off, surprisingly. So I went out into the public, had a blast. Ish. I guess. I don’t know, I guess I do like New York, but I’m not used to it. It’s an awesome place, no doubt. I wonder what it was like back when dinosaurs roamed the Earth. You were there, I bet you have awesome stories to tell._

_Also! Story time! I feel like telling you this story, only because it has mild blood shed and I suppose that is a good thing. It was, I think, 1997, and that was a whole ‘nother world, if you get what I’m saying. (If not, look up ‘only 90 kids will remember this’ on the web.) Anyways, I was in California at the time. Having a beer, enjoying the sun, getting a tan in a swimsuit. It was perfect weather. And then some kids, who probably thought themselves as men, came up and they were diggin me. But I was all like, back off. And they kept on pressuring me, but luckily a nice cop guy saw me with the idiots and came to help._

_Except, the boys didn’t take no for an answer. Even to a cop. (Did I mention they were idiots?) Instead, one of them slugged the cop with a beer bottle, and he dropped to the ground. (Now that I think about it, he was probably drunk.) And then he grabbed me and he was all like ‘you’re coming with me’ and I was like nope. Instead, I got out of his pathetic hold on my arm, grabbed the cop's gun and shot it._

_BUT! IT WASN’T A GUN. NOPE. THIS WAS THE FIRST TIME I'VE EVER SEEN A TASER. I WAS SOOO SURPRISED._

_It was majestic. The kid pissed himself, and his buddies ran for cover. I have never been more awed in my entire life. (And trust me, this trumps the Baltimore incident.)_

_And ever since then, I have always carried a taser. (Shh. New York apparently doesn’t like tasers. Boo. It can survive.)_

_The end of the story is me, being all cutesy and totally bluffing that I knew that it was a taser. (Cops don’t like it if you steal their guns with the intent to shoot.)_

_End of story time. This was all the time I’ve had today. I hope you know that you’re a really nice guy._

_Anyways, I’ve got to go._

_-Your Soulmate_

* * *

_Bucky Barnes_

_@OfficalBBarnes_

_Wtf New York, tasers shouldn’t be illegal. #WhatDoesWtfMean #IDontTrustTonyStark #HeSaysItMeans #WhyTheFight #IAmGooglingThis_

 

_Bucky Barnes_

_@OfficalBBarnes_

_I officially apologize to any children who might have seen that last tweet. #TonyStarkIsADeadMan_

 

_Tony Stark_

_@IronMan$$$_

_@OfficalBBarnes bring it sweetcheeks. maybe you can do it after your pilates class. #OldMenShouldBeInNursingHomes_

 

_Steven Grant Rogers_

_@CptR_

_@OfficalBBarnes @IronMan$$$ please don’t do this again. We’re still going through all the lawsuits from the last time. #don’t #stop #please_

 

_Virginia Potts_

_@PepperP_

_@IronMan$$$ Don’t do it, or I’ll tell Steve about Uruguay. #IWill_

 

_Tony Stark_

_@IronMan$$$_

_@PepperP have i ever told you how much i love you. because i do. #Truth #PleaseDon’tTellSteve_

 

_Clint Barton_

_@SmartHawkass_

_@BlkWidow this is gold. #Popcorn_

* * *

_Dear Soulmate,_

_I have this idea._

_A terrible, no good, awful idea._

_First off, never ever let Tony Stark see this. (And I really hope you know by now that abbreviations can be a mix problem. You really shouldn’t trust a man who either looks like a homeless man or spent fifty-thousand dollars on a tie. Seriously.)_

_Ever. Please do not let him know of these contents._

_This is very, very sneaky. And I hope you know that I’ll be on your side when it comes down to Prank Wars._

_(I already got like, six different pranks for Thor. Don’t ask. It involves lube.)_

_First off, discreetly, not using the wifi or any wifi that Tony would connect it to you, and google up ‘help groups for short men.’ It should come up with tons and tons sites. All of them different. Now I want you to put the address as Tony Stark's personal mail (not the kind that never actually gets to him. The actual mail stuff. You know what I’m talking about) and have them send flyers to Tony Stark about their classes and such. Or get a few yourself and leave them around where he is the longest, and make sure he sees that they are ‘self help to shortness’ guides all over._

_My work here is done._

_-Your secret agent Soulmate_

* * *

_Bucky Barnes_

_@OfficalBBarnes_

_I am so glad that Tony is getting the help he needs. Pix.//rr23jkd #TrustMe #IveHadMyOwnFairShareOfIssues #NotJudgingAtAll_

 

_Tony Stark_

_@IronMan$$$_

_@OfficalBBarnes this is not true. where are these coming from. pepper i need help #DontTrustBarnes #ThisIsALie #Wtf_

 

_Virginia Potts_

_@PepperP_

_@IronMan$$$ I don’t see anything wrong in the picture. I am very happy that you’re taking the first step, Tony. #Proud_

 

_Tony Stark_

_@IronMan$$$_

_@OfficalBBarnes i saw what you did i have actual camera proof you lying liarson i am going to make your arm play it's a small world at random times and it will be the alvin and the chipmunks version so fuck you #ItsOn_

 

_Bucky Barnes_

_@OfficalBBarnes_

_@IronMan$$$ I completely understand.  You’ll get me when you have access to my arm next. OH WAIT. #BringIt #You’llNeverTouchHer_

 

_Bucky Barnes_

_@OfficalBBarnes_

_S, tell the the Thor one. I need it._

* * *

_Dear Soulmate,_

_Get ‘em tiger._

_So Thor likes to brag about how he is the only one who can lift his hammer (that is not an innuendo). So when he leaves it lying around, put lube on the handle, and make sure it’s like, extra slick. Next time he tries to do anything with it… ehehe. I’m sorry, I can’t stop laughing._

_Also, I’ve noticed there is quite a lot of food posts on Hawkeye’s twitter. Maybe do an old switch-a-roo? Salt and sugar? Vinegar and vodka?_

_And who this this ‘her’. Are you saying your arm is a she? (Ahaha. She’s constantly stuck to your side. Pfft.) Do you have a name for her yet? Or is it like that thing where you gender-ify your prosthetic simply because you have ‘feelings’ for it?_

_-Your secret ninja Soulmate_

* * *

_Bucky Barnes_

_@OfficalBBarnes_

_Look at this picture of Thor getting beaned in the head by his own hammer Pix.//fjld2344 #ItsHammerTime_

 

_Natasha Romanoff_

_@BlkWidow_

_@OfficalBBarnes You’re dead. #MyVodka_

 

_Bucky Barnes_

_@OfficalBBarnes_

_Shit #ILeaveMyWillToSteve_

* * *

_Dear Soulmate,_

_I feel uncomfortable with the fact that Natasha is going to kill you. But if there is one thing that I know about_ all _Russians is that you don’t mess with their vodka. Wtf, do you want a dying wish? I said HAWKEYE’S stash._

_(Although, for a better outcome, go for the pizza rolls. He looks like a man who likes those. Or better yet, just put some kool aid in the shower head of his bathroom. MAKE SURE IT’S HIS BATHROOM.)_

_If Natasha is going to kill you, I won’t stop her. Sorry. She’s still my favorite. Plus, I’ve seen her thighs of death before, and I don’t want to be in the way of you and her. Ever._

_-Your soon to be permanently single soulmate_

* * *

_Bucky Barnes_

_@OfficalBBarnes_

_@Smart-Hawkass Barton is rocking the pink look Pix.//jkfda239 #OompaLoompa_

 

_Tony Stark_

_@IronMan$$$_

_@Smart-Hawkass come join the stark side. we have revenge #WellGetHimTogether_

 

_Clint Barton_

_@Smart-Hawkass_

_@IronMan$$$ agreed we meet at dawn. bring the secret weapon._

 

_Steven Grant Rogers_

_@CptR_

_Tony was really nice to me today. Explained a lot about texting and ‘yolo’. I even showed him some of my cat memes that I like. #SwellGuy_

 

_Tony Stark_

_@IronMan$$$_

_@Smart-Hawkass shit he has rogers on his side abandon ship abandon ship #WereDoomed_

 

_Bucky Barnes_

_@OfficalBBarnes_

_@IronMan$$$ @Smart-Hawkass Let’s just say that we have our own secret weapon as well. #Doll_

* * *

_Dear Soulmate,_

_Am I your secret weapon? That’s… strangely satisfying. This is going to be a fast letter, mostly because I have a job to get back, and your tweets are literally on the news. The pictures are fantastic, btw. (That means ‘’by the way.’) I totally didn’t expect you to do the things that I wrote, but since you did I can die happy now. I don’t know why, but pulling pranks on people are the best._

_I have some news. But, I don’t want to spoil the mood that we’ve got going. This is nice, and super fun and I always keep on checking my twitter just in case that you’re on. You know, because that’s how we speak to each other. I’ve noticed my letters getting shorter, simply because I want to respond to what you’re replying with. It’s a conversation thing. And it’s really, really nice._

_So hello, James. Is that alright that I call you that? I don’t want to be too forward. It’s a pleasure to meet you. Since you don’t know me, and you have a wikipedia, I’ll tell you something's about me._

_My favorite color is blue. I don’t like the flavor cumin, because of one really nasty taco I had a few years back. I enjoy watching Hockey and sometimes Baseball, and I am always surprised when the Olympics come around because I swear we just had them. I like cheap food in vast quantities, and Star Trek is only better with Picard. I have this weird obsession with baking, and I have never successfully made homemade pudding. It is a crime. I have this one hat that I can never actually throw away but it blinds anybody who sees it. I frequently shop in the men's section of walmart because they have real pockets and their hoodies are the warmest things I have ever been in._

_This fast letter has turned long. Also, somebody should bedazzle Hawkeye’s superhero suit. Pink and purple really work together._

_-Your Soulmate_

* * *

_Bucky Barnes_

_@OfficalBBarnes_

_Today I watched Star Trek, isn’t that one actor look like Charles Xavier? #S_

 

_Bucky Barnes_

_@OfficalBBarnes_

_Wtf pudding Pix.//fjdal2534 Why don’t you taste good #ITried #S #WhatDoIDo_

 

_Bucky Barnes_

_@OfficalBBarnes_

_You can always call me James, Doll. #S_

 

_Bucky Barnes_

_@OfficalBBarnes_

_What even is hockey. There is a lot more blood in one game then in football. #Wow #S #IAmHonestlySuprisedAtHowMuchFightingThereIs_

 

_Bucky Barnes_

_@OfficalBBarnes_

_My favorite color is green. I like cherries. And pie. I don’t like vegetarian meal plans. Or that gross brown stuff ppl drink. @CptR #GetAHintPunk #WtfEnergyDrinks #S_

 

_Steven Grant Rogers_

_@CptR_

_@OfficalBBarnes You said you liked my green bean casserole. And my drinks._

 

_Bucky Barnes_

_@OfficalBBarnes_

_@CptR I would have liked it a lot more if there was actual green beans in there. Instead it was tofu. #SaveMe #INeedToEatSoon #ItHasBeen32DaysSinceIveHadTakeout_

 

_Tony Stark_

_@IronMan$$$_

_@OfficalBBarnes @Smart-Hawkass im begining to think that rogers is on his own side now #WhatDoWeDoNow #Crap_

 

_Clint Barton_

_@Smart-Hawkass_

_@IronMan$$$ i don’t even care anymore. im rocking the pink and purple look. im a true man. #ComeToMeLadies #OnlyRealMenWearPink #CawCaw_

 

_Avengers_

_@OfficalAvengers_

_Avengers win the fight against the Enchantress today in Hell's Kitchen. #CongratsNewYork #WereStillAlive_

* * *

_Dear Soulmate,_

_I also wanted to say something about what happened earlier today. You were having a stand off with some crazy magic witch, and I was stuck here. Sitting in front of the TV hoping that you’d get away safely. And I don’t think I can do that again._

_It has been years since I wished I had a gun in my hand. I just. I know I can’t really do anything here. It’s frustrating and annoying and I really wish I wasn’t safely tucked away in a corner when you could get killed._

_I like you. Not a like_ like _you, but I like to consider you as a penpal, or even a friend. I don’t have many of those who get to know me, for being_ me _. And I like writing letters to you, because I have always wanted to get to know you some more. Ever since you popped up on the TV screen, back where I come from, you’ve been in my thoughts. Has it really been almost a month since I’ve come to New York?_

_You know how I said I had news? Well. I am sorry to end this on a sad note, but in a week, I will be leaving. And I do not think I will continue writing to you. I guess this is what it all really ends up with. I did say something about silently supporting you in whatever choice you made, and I haven’t really kept up the silent bit. When I get back home, I’ll put this all behind me. I’ll still look for you on the web, and make sure you’re still safe even after a beat down on New York._

_Thanks. I guess. For being there for me._

_-Your kinda sad Soulmate_

* * *

Bucky looked at the paper and stared at the words. To be honest, he didn’t even know how to feel about this. Every letter that he’s received almost every single day had been happy and had been short, sweet and to the point.

This letter was short, but the point was a lot harder to comprehend.

“So she’s going to stop writing to you.” Steve said, coming into the kitchen.

“Yeah. I guess she is.” Bucky pursed his lips.

“What are you going to do about it?” His friend leaned up against the wall.

“I- I don’t know Stevie. It’s just, she’s nice. I don’t really understand her at all. Or her intentions. This could be something entirely different.”

“She still could be a trap.”

“Yeah.” Bucky said, “I know. But… I guess I’ll miss her. You know?”

“She is certainly funny.” Steve admitted. “And you went along with her.”

“Well, if do what she says, maybe she’ll slip up or something. A hydra code or some type of mission sent into a letter.” Bucky shrugged halfheartedly. The possibility that this was just some fangirl was becoming higher with each letter. And secretly, he was starting to look forwards to each letter that was delivered to their house each day.

“It does seem odd that she’s ending this now.” Steve came forwards and leaned to read the letter in Bucky’s hand.

“I want to know.” Bucky spoke, “I want to know how she knows my words.”

“So what are you going to do about it?” Steve asked again.

* * *

_Bucky Barnes_

_@OfficalBBarnes_

_I found this pizza palour. Wanna go? #S_

* * *

 

It took three days before another letter arrived. It was short. Sweet. And to the point.

* * *

_Dear Soulmate,_

_I would love to meet up with you before I leave. Let’s meet before we get some pizza. I will be at the Central Park Zoo on Thursday, at three. At the sea lion exhibit._

_I guess… I’ll see you there._

_-Your Soulmate_


	13. Chapter 13

Three days.

Three days until she was back in Arizona. Sweet, sweet Arizona. Time had flown, and Darcy was wondering where it had all gone. New York was pretty awesome now. She hadn’t been to a thrift store in _years_ and there were tons in New York. Which probably saved her on this not-date.

Because it isn’t a date. It will not be a date. Even though he said he wanted to meet up with her. It wasn’t a date. It was a simple meet up and they’ll talk. That’s all.

(Still, it didn’t help stop her heart from making an attempted prison break from her chest.)

Darcy was, to her utter frustration, fretting. Maybe she shouldn’t wear makeup. She might start crying. When, you know, she starts talking about the Red Room. But does she really want to meet up with James without any make up? Does she need to pack tissues? Probably. Who knows what will happen. Maybe she shouldn’t wear the red shirt. But it was cold outside, colder than the last few years because hel _lo_ she’s been in Arizona. It was mid November, and she should probably wear a jacket. It might even snow at the zoo.

(Maybe he’d give her his jacket.)

In the end, Darcy wore the red long sleeve turtleneck that covered the ladies but showed off her curves. She wasn’t fat, no far from it, but she was born with thicker bones. Her waist isn’t made of fat, it was her hip bones doing their job. Her jeans were worn in _just_ the right spots, and they totally showed off her ass. Her jacket was thick and warm. And she managed to get some nice boots that weren’t _too_ expensive, but still a hefty bit of cash, but they were comfortable and they had a little bit of heel. She wore the basic eyeliner and decided to hell with the whole makeup bit and put on a bright shade of lipstick.

It still didn’t stop her from pacing back and forth in her small room. What if he doesn’t like her. What if he remembers her? What if she does something that’s really stupid. What if he doesn’t like her. What if he stood her up? (Not that she has any complaints about that, she can see penguins all day. Because they’re cute.) What if she accidentally throws up on him? What if he isn’t alone? What if? What if?

“Okay, me! Stop it!” Darcy stopped pacing, snapping at herself. “It will be just _fine_. You know, he actually maybe really wants to meet you in real life. And if anything, you can play up the whole ‘excuse me, you got the wrong person’ thing going on. Got it Darce!?” She clenched her fists together, and took several long breaths until she calmed a little bit down.

And then she started to work herself up. It was finally around noon when Darcy picked up her small bag and slung it over her shoulder. She looked around the room, checking to see if she was missing anything (which she _wasn’t_ because she’s been doing this for the last twenty minutes), and her eyes landed on the bed frame. Maybe… maybe it would make her feel a little bit better.

She knelt down by the bed and her fingers found the knife which she had stored there. It was a small knife, but long enough to slip it between a mans ribs if she needed it to. It was wrapped up neatly in it’s harness, which strapped around her shoulder under her jacket, letting the knife rest up against her ribs.

Almost immediately Darcy started to feel a little bit more comfortable. She was armed, which was a lot better than just her illegal taser which was in her purse. While she might be able to take down a normal man, she doubted it would take down James. He was stronger than the average guy.

Darcy definitely didn’t want to try the whole subway experience again, so this time she crossed her fingers and hailed a cab. Thankfully, the driver was a nice lady, although she had a variety of languages to yell at other cab drivers. But she was better than the man who initially drove her here, so Darcy was fine with that.

It was one thirty when Darcy arrived at the zoo. She paid the admissions, and stepped into the bustling crowd. The reason why she had chosen the zoo was a bit of desperation and a little bit of late night craziness. The moment when her phone chimed from a tweet, and the second she read the words, it felt like Darcy was in the constant state of having a heart attack. It took her two days to actually think up a place that wouldn't seem _too_ date-y and romance-y. Restaurant? Wasn’t he going to show her a pizza parlour? Park? Darcy would get lost within the first fifteen feet into it. And it was too exposed for her tastes. Museums? It still felt like it was too much of a date. So, in a fit of desperation and slight insanity, Darcy decided on a zoo. Which still felt like a date. But not a really big formal one. More like, ‘cute animals and maybe icecream’ date.

The whole zoo was like a half circle. With prairie animals off to one side, and a farm to the other, the main event was the sea lions. They were directly in the center of the circle, and Darcy could potentially see him first before he saw her.

Then it really hit her. Twenty six years. The last time she saw him, he was a blank piece of paper. He had even called her _Stevie_ , which now seems a lot more likely to be his best friend than an ex-lover. (It had haunted her a little. Just a tad.) He had more blood on his hands than her’s, but… her’s was more willing. She intentionally pulled the trigger, and he was a puppet to the Soviet Union. And again, in Hydra. Would he still like her even though she killed innocent people? Would he want to do anything with her once he found out about the Red Room?

The real million dollar question is does he remember her? Does he remember the short brown haired girl who he consistently beat into the floor? Does he remember breaking her arm with one gloved hand? Does he remember seeing her tears as she limped away from a session? Does he remember advising a matron to ‘do away with the other,’ that Darcy had once overheard?

God, Darcy doesn’t know. She doesn’t know if she _does_ want him to remember or not. If he does, would he treat her the same if he didn’t? Would he still see her as her own person? Would he feel guilty? God she hopes not, James needs to be cuddled and loved for the rest of his life. It has something to do with that sad air that’s always around him, but he _has_ to be happy now.

“Mommy, is she okay?” A child’s voice cut into Darcy’s thoughts, and she looked over at a little girl who was peeking at her from behind her mother's legs.

“I’m sure she’s fine.” The mother assured the child, and the two of them walked away, continuing to look at the exhibits. Darcy turned away from where she had been staring at the prairie dog and walked slowly onwards, mildly taking in the view of the different animals. She stopped at the tortoises area, and look down at the slow moving reptiles. Darcy completely passed the snake pit, not wanting to look at them. They always gave her the heebie jeebies.

When she was done going through the ‘Discovery Trail’ as a sign so cheerily proclaimed, she was back in the middle and her watch said it was two thirty. An hour had passed, and she still had a half an hour to go. There was a little cafe across the way, so maybe she could camp out over there and get a water bottle or something. But first, a detour. As she approached the sea lions, at first she thought it was a coincidence. There was a man watching the crowd around the sea lions with a focus that could either be a very protective parent thing, or a not so good thing. Darcy pretended not to notice him as she walked up to the pool with the barking sea lions splashing around. She leaned over the edge, her whole mind alert. She could see from the corner of her eye that she had been spotted, and he took out his iphone and (not very discreetly) took her picture.

Okay, so not protective parent. (A pervert? Maybe.)

Once she was aware, she could see several different people in the crowd that weren’t doing a very good job at blending in. A sea lion below her barked a few times and splashed into the water, the spray barely hitting Darcy’s face, but it was enough of an excuse for her to wipe her face off with a sleeve and look around. Four people all together on her left. None that she could see on her right. Except, on yep. There was a tall guy in a hoodie.

This was veering to ‘so not cool’ every second.

Maybe this was just a thing. A protective thing. Like, what if James doesn’t think he can handle himself with an area full of kids? Or a protect squad that keep him from any harm. A bunch of bodyguards. That sort of thing. Okay, yeah, that’ll be an interesting story to tell. But this was getting really uncomfortable really fast. Maybe she should wait somewhere else until he got here, and _then_ go up to talk to him.

Pulling out her phone, Darcy tapped on the screen a few times before holding up to her ear as she moved towards the cafe. The tall hoodie man was over there, and it was obvious they were looking for somebody who was alone.

“Hey mom,” Darcy chatted to herself, “I’m here, where are you again? Wait where? I can’t hear you?” She held up a hand to her other ear as if she was listening intently to the nonexistent person on the other side of the phone. As she was passing hoodie guy, she caught sight of his face.

Holy _fuck_ _balls_.

It was Steve Rogers. Her heart beat increased as she walked away from him, giving the occasional ‘uh huh, yeah mom. By the monkeys. Where are the monkeys again?’ Inside, she was hysterically laughing to herself, only thinking ‘oh man I was right, he’s terrible at being inconspicuous.’

First off, it was one thing to meet up with a soulmate. It is another thing entirely to meet her soulmates best friend.

This was getting into the ‘this is not okay’ range. Like, this is really not okay. Not anymore. There are creepers looking around for her at the sea lions, his best friend is scoping out the crowd, and to top it all off, Darcy was heading towards the monkey habitat which (with a glance at a map) was inside of a building.

Darcy finished up the call, and used the phones reflection to look behind her. Steve was staring in her direction. Her heart was starting to act like a mob pit as it tried to leap out of her body and run away somewhere. Yeah, totally rethinking the whole ‘meet up with soulmate thing’ now. Using random reflected surfaces as Darcy walked by, she could see that he was _following_ her.

(One day, in the _very_ distant future, Darcy is going to laugh about this. She just knows this. But right now it is pretty terrifying.)

The monkey habitat building was warm inside, and there were small little tanks filled with lizards and frogs. There were actually a bunch of little kids inside, all of them wearing name tags and with a group. There was more than one Avenger themed backpack in the crowd. Once Darcy got to the huge window which opened up to the baboon (wait, are baboons monkeys? Or is it that ape thing) area, where the animals were doing their own thing on top of branches. Darcy looked around the crowded area, scanning the faces until she huffed.

“Where are they _now_.” Darcy mumbled to herself, fully aware that he might be hearing her, as she pulled out her phone again. She fake dialed, and held up the phone to her ear when a hand caught her wrist.

“Put down the phone.” Steve Rogers glared at her with all of his American Truth and Justice Way. Darcy stared up at him with wide eyes, as she lowered the phone from her head.

There were two ways to get out of this. Go quietly, or take advantage of her surroundings.

“Oh my _god!”_ Darcy shrieked loudly, “it’s _Captain America!_ ”

It was almost an instant massacre. It was like every single head in the room swiveled to look at Steve, and then there was small children basically _screaming_ and rushing towards Steve who looked so _alarmed_ Darcy wanted to cry and laugh at the same time. In the confusion she managed to get her arm freed from his hold, and stepped back to let some small child rush in to take her place. Even the baboons in the cage were scared by the noise so much they all ran and hid in their nests. The noise didn’t even fall when Darcy went into the next room, and so many kids were trying to get past her to get to Steve. She could even hear him stumbling over words.

Darcy walked out of the building as if nothing was wrong as she looked both ways to see if anybody was watching her. Two of the men, one of which was the man from the sea lions pit, were walking towards her direction, and spotted her at the same time she spotted them. The broke into a jog, coming straight at her.

There is nothing more guilty than running away.

Darcy actually started to walk _towards_ them, and they slowed their jog into a casual walk. It was evident that they were confused. Darcy pulled out her phone and bent over it as she passed them, and they stopped to look at her. She kept on walking at her regular pace, and the dumb idiots started to follow her again.

Okay, so she is going to leave. Like, _now._ Because this is getting out of hand so fast, and this was suppose to be a not-date! Darcy took a turn behind a building, because she’s gotta get rid of the tails that were following her before she took off. Otherwise she’d be walking around New York all day in hopes of getting rid of them. Which sucks, because these boots haven’t been broken in yet.

She waited in the empty space for about twenty seconds before they came around the corner and she hit hard and she hit fast. They were trained (albeit poorly), and to Darcy’s alarm, they had guns on them. But she was quicker than the average human, and a little bit more flexible than the they were.

It was startlingly easy to take them both out. (After a break for a few years, you’d think she might have gotten a little rusty.) Darcy was taking the clip out of both guns and dropping them onto the ground when there was a click behind her.

“Drop it.”

At that moment, Darcy would have really liked to say that her heart stopped. That she froze. That she at least _knew_ on some level of subconscious of who was behind her. She would have liked to have some sort of knowledge of who was behind her before she turned. Maybe then, she might have not been so shocked and surprised to see him standing behind her.

The gun fell to the floor with a clatter.

He… looked good. Very good, since she last saw him. His hair was still long, but he was shaved and he had a glint in his eyes that Darcy hadn’t seen before. They had been dead before, but this here. This was _really_ meeting her soulmate for the first time.

She opened her mouth, trying to say something but her throat wouldn't work. Darcy had the overwhelming feeling that she was about to cry. She was about to say something, _anything_ when he spoke again.

“Hands up.” James glanced at her hands, and that was when Darcy noticed that he was pointing a gun at her. She complied, slowly raising her hands in the air. But… she was so confused. What was happening? ‘ _Maybe because you just beat up two men_ ,’ a voice in her head whispered sarcastically, ‘ _no wonder he has a gun out.’_

James stared at her, his eyes flicking over her until they rested on her face. His face didn’t give anything away, but Darcy could sense that he came to some type of decision. “Knife. Take it out.” His eyes glanced at her shoulder before returning to her face. Yeah, okay. Darcy could see this happening. No problemo. He might not want her to be armed. She slowly withdrew the knife from its sheath and let it fall to the ground, kicking it away.

“Who do you work for?” He demanded, and Darcy’s brain just sort of paused. Right there. Work for? Wait what?

“Work for who?” Darcy asked, her voice sounding thin to her ears. It felt like her brain was an old record player and it kept on skipping a certain part of the song. This was really confusing, and maybe he should point that gun somewhere else?

“Is it Hydra?” He asked, and Darcy couldn’t _believe_ that this was happening. _He_ was asking _her_ if she was working for Hydra? What? It was the brief moment, and he cocked back the gun. “Is it Hydra.” His voice was thin, and very, very dangerous.

Darcy shoved her emotions down. She’ll figure this out later. But right now, she had to stop this. Stop him. Don’t think about the questions that she certainly wanted to ask. This was important, because she had a very high chance of getting shot.

“I don’t work for anybody.” Darcy said, letting her voice be even and calm. “I don’t work for Hydra, or for anybody.”

“Bullshit.” He practically spat. Darcy was startled by the sudden emotion he was displaying. “You’re not some fangirl. They don’t have training to take down two trained agents. Who. Do. You. Work. For.”

“I am your soulmate.” Darcy said evenly, and barely flinched as he fired his gun. It had a silencer, but it still felt like an explosion in her ears. The bullet barely brushed past her head, her hair moving gently from its path.

“Try again. Next time, I’ll aim three inches more to the right.” James cocked his gun once more. He shifted his gun so it aimed right at her head.

Suddenly this wasn’t about calming him down, telling him the truth anymore. This was a real, life threatening situation that she needed to get out of. This wasn’t about him anymore, this was about her. Right now? She’d chose herself if there was a choice between him and her. Darcy mentally ignored the emotions that surged up through her and made her want to choke, she was going to get through this. She was going to get out of here.

Distract. She had to distract him.

“Okay.” Darcy ducked her head, her eyes closing, letting fear creep into her voice. “Okay, I’ll tell you. I’ll tell you whatever you need to know. Just. Just don’t _shoot_ me.” She began to breathe faster, and tears began to fall. Even if she was hard pressed to say it, Darcy couldn’t say if she was really acting at this point.

He didn’t really relax, but let his gun fall and took a step forwards. “You’re going to tell me-” he started to say but Darcy made her move. Men always expect to finish their sentences. Her hand came up and covered his with the gun, jerking it away so it wasn’t going to be pointed at her. She took another step as she felt his arm tug against hers. But she was fast as she buried her hand in his hair as she brought his face forwards into a chaste kiss.

The instant her skin touched his, everything seemed to fall into place. Like pieces of a puzzle finally fitting together after unable to for so long. Safety. Comfort. The feeling that this was so _right_. Darcy could feel her heart begin to swell and ache as she kept her lips on his, hoping he wasn’t going to shove her away from him. James stopped moving, not even breathing until there was a low sound in his throat and he began to kiss back.

Any and all thoughts flew out of Darcy’s head, and for a brief second she wondered why she wanted to get away from him in the first place. But his tongue swiped against hers, and the thought vanished. It was _perfect_. Time hadn’t changed a thing. The feeling of safety and comfort that she had felt all those years ago was still there. Though this time, along with passion. The innocent kiss suddenly turned into something darker, as Darcy let the emotions flow into her. There was a lot of biting, too much saliva, probably the most messy kiss she’s ever had to date. Distantly she heard his gun drop to the ground as he brought his arm around her waist to hold her closer, but right now she didn’t _care_. It was perfect.

Finally, even though she couldn’t get _enough_ of him, they parted for a breath of air. Was his eyes ever _that_ blue?

“God, you’re so pretty.” James whispered, and it lit something in Darcy. He thought she was pretty. His hand came up and brushed against her cheek. “Are you really my soulmate?” The question suddenly reminded her that she was sucking face to a guy who held her at gunpoint a few minutes ago. The thought was like a splash of ice cold water to her brain. It dampened the high that she was on, letting her think a little bit more clearly. Darcy gave him a smile that she hoped wasn’t too fake and leaned in for another kiss. He didn’t object, as he reciprocated enthusiastically. Her hands dragged through his long hair, god it was soft. Then sliding down to trail against his jawline.

When the parted for breath, Darcy pulled back so she could look him in the eyes. “Bastard.” She whispered, as she corkscrewed her thumb into a pressure point behind his jaw. He grunted as his eyes flickered closed and he collapsed on top of her. He was heavy, but Darcy simply heaved him off of her and let him fall to the ground.

The second that her skin stopped touching his, she immediately felt angry and pissed and a little violated. “Bastard!” She hissed again, this time with more venom and had half the mind to kick him while he was down, but she didn’t know how long he would be out. Her emotions were spiraling out of control and she couldn’t stop herself from talking. “I thought you were better. I thought you’d _understand_.” Her voice broke, and this time she managed to keep her lips tightly shut. Her chest hurt, and Darcy slowly counted down from five to push her emotions down the best that she could. He _betrayed_ her. And her trust. And it hurt. It hurt a lot. It almost hurt to even breathe. But she had to ignore that now. Otherwise she'd have a mental break down right here and it would only hurt her if she did.

Darcy pushed open a door that said ‘employee’s only,’ and left her soulmate behind. She tried not to think about what just happened, not yet, not ready to embrace the cry fest that was sure to happen. Instead she clung tightly to anger as she slipped away into New York.

This time, it was her who was leaving. And this time, it would take another damn fucking twenty six years before they saw each other again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Casually reminding those who have forgotten, that in this book, soulmates get special nice feelings when they touch their soulmate.


	14. Part 2- Cell Block Tango

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"He had it coming. He had it coming. He only had himself to blame. You should have been there. You should have seen it. I think that you would have done the same."_   
>  _-Cell Block Tango_

Tony Stark, the asshole, walked into the room and gave Bucky a double take. Then a low wolf whistle. “Wow, I didn’t think you’d get some this fast, Cyborg.”

“Shut up.” Bucky growled, his hand coming up to try and wipe away the pink stain across his mouth. He had already tried to get the lipstick smears off, but things had changed over the years and lipstick was apparently one of them. It stained.

“So, like, what are we doing here? And why are you commandeering JARVIS?” Tony swaggered over to Steve who was bent over a monitor. “Ooh, is that traffic cams? Those are my favorite.”

“Shut up.” Steve said absently.

“Oh, you both are so in sync sometimes it’s scary.” Tony snorted.

“It’s not them in sync, Tony.” Clint piped up from where he was laying on the floor, lined paper covered in purple ink laying around him in piles. “It’s on everybody's mind.”

“You guys are no fun.” Tony sighed dramatically, “but you still haven’t answered my question. What exactly are you doing?”

“Do you want the short story or the long one.” Sam asked, taking a break from a tablet.

“Which one has sex in it.”

“Neither.” Sam deadpanned.

“Oh boo.” Tony sighed, “okay, just give me the short version. I have to go do something important than be in your little think tank of sausages.”

“Tasha will be here soon.” Clint spoke up, looking around. “But you’re right. There are way too many guys in here.”

“Will you just tell him?” Bucky snapped, glancing up from the surveillance recordings of the zoo. “His voice is getting whiny.”

“I object to that statement.” Tony pointed a finger at Bucky, who went back to the device.

“It’s true.” Clint called out. “Hey, that’s how I got bedazzled.” He returned to the pages.

“Okay, basically it sums up to this. These two blockheads assumed that the letters who Bucky was getting was a hydra agent. But it was actually his soulmate, who told him she knew his words, but due to vagueness and miscommunication he didn’t believe her. So earlier today they met and Bucky pulled a gun on her, and she vulcan nerve pinched him. Now we’re trying to figure out where she is so Buck can apologize to her.” Sam explained, and Tony was silent for a few seconds.

“Wow.” Tony said, “you really messed up.”

“Shut up.” Bucky snapped.

“Like, you’re going to have to serious grovel. Like, wow. I can’t even think of an innuendo I’m that shocked.”

“Why is he here?” Bucky sighed, looking over at Steve.

“JARVIS can’t access satellite images unless he has permission from Tony. Plus he’ll go through the footage faster.” Steve said, still not looking up.

Bucky looked at Tony, who tapped his foot and folded his arms. There was a little shit eating grin on his face. Bucky growled to himself, and then composed himself. This wasn’t about him, it was about her. The blue eyed dame who touched him and made everything right again. But there was something about how Tony Stark did _everything_ that set off every single button that Bucky had, and his pride reared it’s head. Still, the words came out haltingly and full of not-so-empty promises.

“Tony. Can we. Use JARVIS.” The words tasted sour in his mouth.

“What’s the magic word?”

“Tony.” Steve warned.

Bucky pressed his lips together, took in a deep breath and gave Tony the dirtiest look he could make. “ _Please_.” He spat.

“Hmm. I don’t know. I’m not feeling the words, you know? If I wasn’t any smarter, I might think you don’t actually mean what you’re saying.”

“Tony, if you don’t let us use JARVIS, I’ll say the ‘s’ word.” Steve finally looked from the screen to give Tony his ‘America Is Disappointed In You’ look.

“Aww, Cap. You know as much as I love making you say filthy filthy words, I can handle a swear word.”

“I’m not talking about shit, Tony. I’m talking about the other ‘s’ word.”

Tony blinked a few times, then his eyes went wide. “Yeah, you know what? Sure. You can use JARVIS for the day. And uh. All from the goodness of my heart.”

“What heart?” Clint asked.

“What arrows?” Tony shot back.

“You win.” Clint held up his hands. “You win.”

Tony smirked, and Bucky rolled his eyes. They were at it again. Then again, they all were on a temporary truce, and Sam was the only one in the room who could be considered as an ‘adult’ since Natasha had set the rule that they all couldn’t be in the same room without somebody supervising. Especially after the vodka incident. Normally, Tony wouldn't have bothered him like this, but the stress and the events earlier today set Bucky on the edge. He paused the video, staring at the woman whose image had been blown up on the screen. She was looking at the Red Pandas, before she had alerted Steve that something had been off.

But still, Bucky had spotted her before one of the agents took her picture. It was the way she moved, with each roll of the hips was a smooth step. It reminded him vaguely of how Natasha moved, but she didn’t act like a cat slinking into the room. The moment she had walked into the center of the zoo, Bucky noticed her. They had been looking for women who were alone, maybe dressed up a little nice. She had fit into that description. But so had six other women. There was something about her that drew him to her.

Even at a distance he could tell she was beautiful. Her curves would had made him drool back before the war began. Of course, back then he didn’t have qualms about going up to a pretty doll and asking her to go dancing with him. And she certainly had that charm around her that would have made him sweet on her. Maybe would have asked her out a few times more before he had to stop dating and save money for Steve’s next medical problem that was sure to happen. Back then she was just his type. Still his type.

Tony whistled low near Bucky’s head. “Wow, is that her? Look at her bo-”

“Finish that sentence, I’ll have Steve tell Pepper about the perm pictures I found.” Bucky growled, sending Tony a sharp glare.

“You wouldn't. I had those pictures removed from the internet.”

“You ought to know by now, Stark.” Bucky smiled wolfishly, maybe enjoying Tony’s reaction a little bit too much. “What goes on the internet stays on the internet.”

Tony spluttered.

“Aw man, you got owned!” Clint crowed, “and a random question with absolutely no connection to the previous conversation, Bucky do you know how much I care for you? Like, you’re my favorite. Ever.”

“Try again.” Bucky shook his head, smirking.

“Don’t flatter him! He’s on the other side!” Tony said at the same time.

“Could we get back to the, you know. Thing?” Sam interjected smoothly as Clint opened his mouth. With that, the tensions mounting in the room dissipated. Tony said one last remark but Bucky wasn’t listening, and had left. Bucky lost the smile as he turned to look at her. Her picture still up on the tablet he was using.

What was her name? How did she know? How did they meet? Did he meet her on a mission?

With that thought, Bucky pursed his lips. God, he hoped not. If she saw him as that thoughtless monster, he didn’t know if he could look in her eyes again. Had he killed somebody in front of her? She seemed too pure. But then again, she took out two agents. And him. But he had let his guard down at the-

This thoughts stopped. Then resumed.

At the kiss. She was warm. Warmer than anything he had touched since 1945. The cold in his bones had bled away from her touch, her fingers carding through his hair. Tracing his jawline. Even when she had abruptly jammed her thumb into his pressure point, effectively knocking him out for four minutes.

She was good. Even from a distance, he could see a light in her eyes. Whoever she was, whatever her name is, she was too… innocent. That was the only word he could say. She didn’t have to go through the pain and agony that shifted him into this broken form of himself. She doesn’t know the night terrors. Or how he sees a light reflect off of something across the street and he drops onto the ground because his first thought was that there was a sniper. Too beautiful. Too perfect. For him. He is broken, dirty. People’s blood are on his hands, innocents and children killed as he stepped over their bodies.

Bucky rested his head in his hands. She wouldn't want him. He was still broken. Sometimes he feels just like he did back in 1945, but then something would happen and he’d be an empty shell again. No matter how much work he did, it could take one loud noise and all that work would go down the drain.

No, he’d apologize. But she wouldn't want to see him. Not after- not after. The gun. And he. He shot at her. Threatened her. She was calm. So calm. And he. He made her cry. Made her scared. Scared of him.

No, he’d write a note. Like she did, and he’d have Steve or Sam give it to her. He couldn’t. He couldn’t be near her, he’d hurt her. And she was too good to be hurt. But the desire to see her was there. To touch her again. To talk to her. He couldn’t, but wanted nothing more to see her again. His nameless soulmate.

“Buck?” Steve quietly said, resting a hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “We’ll find her. I know we will.”

Bucky lifted his head from his hands, taking in a deep breath. “Yeah.” He had to get back to work.

“She’s worth it.” Steve continued in his hushed tone. “She’s a real pretty doll when I saw her.”

“You been looking at my girl?” Bucky said before he could stop the words, the taste in his mouth growing sour. No, she wasn’t his. He didn’t have that right to claim her as his. He hid his reaction to the words behind a smile, which Steve goofily reciprocated.

“Alright boys.” Natasha walked in, her voice snapping Bucky and Steve from their moment, her hands ladened with grocery bags. “I got snacks.”

“Thank fuck.” Clint dropped whatever pages he was holding and went straight for the bags. “Please tell me you got puffy Cheetos.”

“They were all out.” Natasha shrugged.

“Aw. Cheetos.” Clint mourned, and then pulled out an extra large bag of spicy Doritos. “Fuck yeah, Doritos.”

“So who is doing what?” Natasha asked as Clint squeezed the bag until there was a deep pop, and the top was open.

“Clint is going through the letters, looking for anything to give her position away. Sam and I are doing traffic cams around the zoo and the blocks surrounding it. Buck is looking through the zoo’s security footage.” Steve explained as he picked out a tube of Pringles. Sam grabbed the five pound bag of gummy bears.

“Yeah?” Natasha asked, and Bucky turned the tablet to show her the screen. If he hadn’t been looking at Natasha, he would have missed it. She lifted her chin a little, and blinked a few times, taking in a small breath. She looked away from the picture, grabbing a Powerade from a bag and chucking it at Clint who was beginning to choke from inhaling too many Doritos.

It was more than enough. “You know her.” Bucky demanded rather than asked, and Natasha gave him a cool look. “You recognize her.” It sounded like he was accusing her. Which he was. Kinda. But she _knew_? Natasha knew who she was? His soulmate? After the last few weeks agonizing about his soulmate, and now he _knew_ for a _fact_ that she was the real deal, Natasha knew all along? Bucky didn’t realize he was standing until he was towering over Natasha.

“You know her. How.” Was she a- a Shield agent? The thought came to him like a slap to the face. Was this all some sort of plan? That Natasha and his soulmate schemed? It was very unlikely, but then again so was the fact that she was actually his soulmate that he didn’t even consider that she was his soulmate.

Natasha kept her face carefully blank. “Natasha?” Steve asked hesitantly, “do you know her?”

“I do.” Natasha kept her words clipped and short. Opposite of her attitude a minute ago.

“You knew, this entire time? It was her?” His voice cracked.

“I didn’t.” Natasha clenched her jaw. “I didn’t know it was her. Not until now.”

“Who is she?” Bucky’s hand slapped the table with a bang. The room was dead quiet. “Who is _she?_ ”

“It’s not my choice to say. If she didn’t tell you herself, then I won’t.”

“Why? Tasha, why?” Steve asked. “You know this is kinda big. We’re a team. We don’t keep secrets from each other. We trust each other.”

“I owe her.” Natasha simply said, and then the Avengers Alarm went off. Red lights flashed. An alarmed wailed above. Clint and Sam were the first out the door, probably just waiting to get out of the room. Steve hoovered at the doorway, but soon left after. Natasha held his gaze, unflinching from his glare. “I swear, Yasha. I didn’t know it was her. This isn’t my secret to tell.” Her voice was clear and solid, even though the shriek of the alarms tried to drown her out.

“This isn’t over.” He said as Natasha turned away. She paused.

“I know.” She said, and later Bucky wished that he had said something else. Done something else instead of let her walk out that door. Of course they argued, of course they left it at that while they defended New York.

He wouldn't know, as he left that room on how much he would regret saying all of that to Natasha. He wouldn't know that within an hour, Natasha would get shot.


	15. Chapter 15

The stink of the sewers clung to Darcy as she hobbled down the street, leaving the not-so-legal car that she had acquired behind. Her boots, which had been fairly comfortable earlier in the day had given her blisters and there was no way she would ever wear them again as they had gone through sewer sludge and all sorts of grossness. She had spent the last few hours wandering, hiding, having heart attacks because some men looked at her with a knowing glint in their eyes, and wallowing in self pity.

All the tears had been spent. Some of them due to the rancid and rotten smell that made her tear up when she was underground, but most of them due to the fact of what had happened earlier. The overwhelming surge of pain and regret had subsided, but left Darcy with a hollowed out feeling that slowly throbbed with her heart beat. There were so many emotions running through her it was impossible to distinguish them all.

That all being said, Darcy was sure they hadn’t followed her. She was thorough. More than so. It was easy, slipping into that mindset where she was the hunted and had to find the impossible little nitch to slip into. Even though she tried hard to be _normal_ it was impossible to forget the endless years of her childhood.

Darcy walked up the front steps of the women's shelter at exactly 10 PM, and thankfully she managed to slip into the side hallway where her room was unnoticed. Nobody was around, and if so, Darcy would be sure they would stay far away from her because of the stench. It was awful. The idea of getting a shower, even though they could have tracked her down and were waiting for her here, was the higher priority. She couldn’t stand herself smelling like this anymore. Instead of going into her room, she went into the joint shower room and stripped, putting all of her clothes (even her cutest bra) in the little trash can. She was _never_ going to wear them again.

Even though Darcy wanted a quick shower, it took longer because the smell stuck to her, no matter how much soap and shampoo she used and scrubbed at her skin. She paid extra attention to her feet, because they had been in the sludge, and would probably get, like, athletes foot or something. Every time she heard somebody walk past the door, Darcy held her breath. Waiting to see if somebody would kick down the door and arrest her. For them to pick the lock and come in. But the footsteps went away, and Darcy exhaled in relief.

When Darcy finally deemed herself clean as she could get at the time, she finally turned off the now cold water and wrapped a towel around her body. (While she was at it, she tied up the garbage bag so the clothes wouldn't stink up the air.) Her room was maybe two dozen feet away at best, and only women were allowed here. (Still, the idea that somebody could be waiting in her room for her was terrifying.) She scurried to her room, locked the door, and pulled on the most incognito set of clothing she could find. Her hair was tucked under a Yankee’s baseball cap, and she had a set of sunglasses to wear as she drove through traffic, in case they were scanning the camera’s with a face recognition software.

It was probably right here, that Darcy felt herself stop for a second. Maybe she was going a little too far? But then again Tony Stark, and the need was justified.

Then everything was hastily thrown back into her single duffle bag, everything that was majorically important, anyways. Most of her clothes, her hair brush (no DNA left around), tooth brush, makeup kit, .45 pistol, and her computer. The basic necessities. She was leaving, even though her plane ride was scheduled to leave in, Darcy mentally checked, two days now. They were going to be watching the airport security video. Of no doubt, and if she wasn’t intercepted getting on the plane, he’d be there when she was getting off of it. Planes were not an option.

Thus, a stolen car parked in front of the building.

As she was just zipping up the bag, Darcy hesitated. What use was a gun if it was in her bag? She took it out, checked the bullets, made sure the safety was on, and put it in the waistband of her pants. She didn’t have pockets or a holster, but her large hoodie would cover it up from anybody seeing it. Darcy hefted the bag over her shoulder and glanced around the small box-like room. She hadn’t missed anything of importance. And she left, not locking the door behind her, just in case somebody wanted to steal anything she had left behind. (Mostly socks. And maybe some underwear.) She had made it almost to the front door before somebody noticed her.

“Darcy?” It was Penny. “Where are you going?”

“Oh, there’s a family emergency at home. One of my sisters got into a car crash. It’s really bad. They asked me to come and take care of the kids.” Darcy sighed, looking down. “I left you a note,” a lie, “and I would never normally do this.”

“It’s fine, deary.” Penny gave Darcy a comforting pat on the arm. “When is your plane leaving?”

“I’ll take the next flight out if they have any open seats.” Darcy shrugged.

“If you ever decide to come back, the job is yours.” Penny nodded, “you’ve done a good job helping the ladies here. They’ve gain back some confidence. If you’re ever in New York again, come and visit, okay?”

“Yeah, I will.” Darcy smiled, and was just about to leave when there was a strangled scream from the lounge. At first, Darcy thought it was the Avengers, coming to take her away and put her in a padded cell, and had a small heart attack. But then Coco practically flew into the room, her face pale and eyes wide.

“My water just broke.” She whispered, horrified. “I-I need to call a cab.”

What happened next was Darcy and Penny trying to calm Coco down as she panicked. Soothing words didn’t mean much, and Coco’s hand found Darcy’s and began to squeeze it in a death grip. Darcy can’t exactly remember what led to her saying it, and she blamed the hysteria and slowly building chaos as some of the other girls got wind of Coco’s condition.

“I can take you to the hospital. I’ve got a car out front.” Darcy spoke in a calm voice, and Coco let out a low groan of pain. “Come on, let’s go.” It was slow going, and Darcy had to help Coco down the steps of the building.

It was a mistake to drive through traffic in New York. It was also very distracting to have a pregnant woman in labor next to her. Every once in awhile, Coco would let out a squeal of pain as she took in small breaths. It wouldn't be a surprise if they died before getting to the hospital. But it also gave Darcy time to think.

What she was doing. It was just one motion led to another, and Darcy was suddenly helping Coco go to a hospital. She should be driving away from Brooklyn, and taking the two day drive back to Arizona.

No, not Arizona. Darcy pressed her lips together in realization. It was inevitable. It was going to happen at some time. She was going to have go somewhere else, get a different name and start a new life. Canada sounds great right now, and Darcy could work on her French. Plus, she wouldn't have to live in a large population. In a small town in the woods would be ideal. And with that, Darcy knew she had grown too attached to this life. Of being Darcy Lewis. But she was just Darcy, only Darcy, and she was going to have to move on again.

The hospital was, thankfully, easy to find. A bold sign outside said it was The Brooklyn Hospital Center, and underneath that, Visitors Welcome. Still, Darcy couldn’t stop herself from parking in the back, in a corner parking space where the cameras didn’t catch it on film.

“Please, please.” Coco whimpered, “please don’t leave me. I don’t want to be alone. I don’t, I can’t do this alone.”

“Shh.” Darcy reached over and pulled Coco into a hug. “I won’t leave you. I’ll be here for you.” What was she doing? She should be leaving. But Coco needed her help, and Darcy couldn’t abandon her here.

The walk to the doors was long, because Darcy parked so far away. Thankfully, Darcy spotted the (very obvious) camera’s and made sure her face was angled away from them. The second they walked through the doors, the nurse in the front immediately got a wheelchair and started to take Coco away. They were really efficient here.

“Wait! Wait, she has to be there!” Coco cried out in a panic, looking behind her to give Darcy an alarmed look.

“I’m sorry, but only close family members are allowed in the delivery room.” The nurse looked at Darcy and at Coco. They didn’t look anything alike. But Coco gave Darcy another look, and she knew she couldn’t leave her.

“I’m her wife.” Darcy said calmly, “does that count as close family members?” She crossed her arms, acting confident.

What was she doing?!

“This way then. And you’ll need to wash up.” The nurse didn’t even blink at the admission, and wheeled Coco away. Darcy trailed behind them, keeping her head down and away from cameras. Hospitals have tons of cameras, and if she wasn’t being careful she could get a full face shot and then…

She didn’t want to think about it.

After scrubbing up to her elbows with a bland soap, and pulling her hair back, Darcy was taken to Coco’s delivery room. Coco grabbed her hand and then proceeded to try and crush it. A doctor puttered in, and checked up on Coco as the nurses did an ultrasound to make sure the baby was in the right place. Darcy had been in there for a short time, maybe less than thirty minutes, and then the ground seemed to shake.

“What was that?” Darcy asked, as the doctor and the nurse sighed.

“Trouble.” The doctor said, “and an extra shift tonight.”

The nurse flicked on the television and it was on the news already. ‘ _Avengers on Scene, Fighting Giant Spiders.’_ “I knew Brooklyn was due for an attack, but I was hoping it wouldn't happen on my shift.”

Coco squeezed Darcy’s hand even tighter (how was that possible) and let out a strangled sound. “Ow ow ow ow.” She breathed to herself, and Darcy shifted closer to Coco.

“Can we turn that off?” Darcy asked, pointing at the TV. “I don’t think this is the time for that.” Nor did Darcy want a reminder. Or the idea that all of the Avengers were in Brooklyn. Ignorance is a blessing.

“I hate you.” Coco groaned, glaring at Darcy. “This. This is all your fault.”

“Yes Honey.” Darcy gave her a smile, “I know. And I am very sorry.”

“Did. I tell? You how much I hate you?” Coco spoke after every breath.

“Yes Honey.” Darcy repeated, letting Coco squeeze her hand in retaliation. “Breathe, hon. In, out. In, out.”

“I am-,” Coco let out a large exhale, “going to hurt you if you continue saying that. Because I swear I will.”

“Yes Honey.”


	16. Chapter 16

It took seven grueling hours for Coco Jr to come into the world wailing like a banshee. Coco had held her baby to her chest, and Darcy saw that glow around Coco. She was a mother. The nurse had offered to let Darcy hold Nutmeg, which Coco had proudly proclaimed as her name, and Darcy held a baby in her arms for the first time in her very long life. Nutmeg was red and blotchy and her small face was scrunched up and her head didn’t look quite right but in Darcy’s mind she was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. The small little bundle in her arms moved in small jerks as Nutmeg opened up her gray eyes and peered up at Darcy, her small hand coming up and grabbing some hair that had fallen from it’s ponytail.

Darcy just sort of _melted_.

She held Nutmeg for about fifteen minutes before the nurse took her to give Nutmeg a checkup. As Darcy saw Nutmeg disappear, she had to sudden desire to have one of her own. A kid. A small boy or girl with her blue eyes and-

Darcy took in a breath. Yeah, she can’t get pregnant. Still, Nutmeg was the cutest baby she had ever seen, and it only took seven hours and nine-ish months for her to be made. Not too bad. Darcy slumped into a hard plastic chair. Man, she couldn’t think, her brain was completely fried. With everything going on, all she needed right now was a three day nap and maybe a couple of cartons of ice cream. She had just started to nod off when a nurse came in with a clip board.

“Can you put in your information?” She asked Darcy, “everybody is tied up with all the casualties coming in, so do you think you can do this?”

“Yeah, I uh, I can.” Darcy blinked at the pages with several check-marked boxes and tiny words that blurred together. The light was dim in the hospital. It had been about two hours ago when the lights went out and the generators went on. Thankfully, the red lights on the camera’s had stayed unlit, due to the fact that the generator’s power needed to be used elsewhere. Unfortunately, any real electricity didn’t seem to be coming any soon. Thankfully, they had gotten an announcement that the attack had been successfully repelled about forty minutes ago, but still it was six hours of basic hell for any nurse or doctor. Darcy focused her eyes and determinedly started to fill out the bill information to her name. It wasn’t like she was short on cash, and she could take it. Plus, she wouldn't be using it much anymore, figuring she was going to have to drop off the map. She had several caches of money and other useful things hidden in different parts of the Country, thank goodness.

By the time that Darcy was done filling out the sheets, her butt was numb in the chair and the hallways felt a little less full than it had been before. Her purse… Darcy still had her purse slung around her neck. She felt around inside of it and pulled out a bottle of midol, and shook two white pills out. She swallowed them down dry, the taste of the medicine burning on her tongue. Her head was splitting, and the fact that midol has caffeine in it also helped. It would keep her awake on the long drive to… somewhere. This was just a very long pit stop, but that didn’t mean that she was going to stay around forever. Maybe in a few years or so she’d come back and say hi to Nutmeg and Coco.

After taking a second, keeping her head in her hands, Darcy finally took in a deep breath. It was time to get a move on. She’d go drop off the information at the front desk and leave, and the way how things were still chaotic around here, the nurses wouldn't miss her. Coco was going to stay until the next day, and she could… Darcy rummaged in her purse again and pulled out a crumpled twenty dollar bill. She could get a cab back to the women’s shelter. No biggie. Her knees ached a little as Darcy got up from the chair, silently moving back into Coco’s room and leaving the bill tucked neatly under her folded shirt that was next to the bed. She’d find it when she got dressed.

It was time to leave. Darcy Lewis’ final act. She sighed, and left. The clipboard tucked safely under her arm. The nearer she came to the front, the more people and noise there seemed to be. People lining the walls, with arms in slings. An old man with a cane, his face pale and shaking. Nurses getting pulled away from one patient to another, a child screaming for their mother.

It was because of all the noise and how slow Darcy was due to her tiredness, she almost missed it.

“Now I don’t care if I have to buy this whole goddamned hospital and personally fire you, you are going to let me-” A man’s voice, high strung and risen caught Darcy as she entered the front lounge. She paused in the doorway, an old alarm bell that she had tried to bury in her head starting to clang loudly.

“No means no, Mister Stark.” An equally frustrated nurse raised her voice. “It is simply too dangerous for her to be moved.”

“If you were listening, you’d hear me say this again and again! I have specialists here, waiting outside to take her safely to my own personal hospital instead of this playground!” Darcy’s eyes focused on him finally, taking in the sight of the Tony Stark, his suit ripped and his hair mussed up. There was an edge to his voice that said ‘I haven’t slept in 36 hours.’ And it wasn’t the nice kind of 36 hours, it was more borderline hysteria. “She won’t be in danger, and when she wakes up she won’t kill the nearest doctor, got it?”

Darcy felt a little more awake as she turned around and walked back the way she came, pausing only to drop off the clipboard on a cart that was passing by. Okay, so… Darcy tried to process this in. Avengers. Outside? Avengers are here, definitely. Do they know that she is here? Are they looking for her? Or for somebody else? The conversation felt like it was to somebody else, but the possibility that it was a trap, like the zoo, was still large. The cameras are still off, Darcy noted, glancing up at a passing camera to check.

She twisted and turned through the hallways, forgetting where she was going and how to get back. The midol was starting to kick in, her headache slowly numbing away and her energy levels boosting. Her fast metabolism was great for meds, not so good for diets. Soon, as she moved through the hallways, periodically checking to see if somebody was behind her, the noise level dropped. And so did the amount of people that she saw. Darcy figured she was getting into the isolation ward or something.

“Excuse me, miss.” Somebody said, and touched her shoulder. Darcy jumped, she had been preoccupied with her thoughts. She looked over and saw a man in a cops uniform, holding himself like a military man. Alarms rang out, this man didn’t look comfortable in his clothing. Not in the way that a cop does. “Miss, this area is closed. I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

Darcy glanced back at the hallway which she was going to go down, and spotted a lounge with a couple of vending machines. Probably the nurses break room.

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” Darcy said, her voice softer and higher than normal. She slumped her shoulders in exhaustion. “It’s just, I was getting something for my boy. He got hit during the first hour, and he hasn’t eaten anything and I’m just trying to get something and the vending machines in the front are all out-,” her voice was getting louder and starting to tremble. She made big emotions, like letting her hands come together absently play with her fingers, taking quicker breaths, shrugging her shoulders, not looking at him in the eyes, and letting her frazzled appearance do all the talking.

“Ma’am, it’s alright.” The cop-military guy who’s tag said Hoffings put his hand on her shoulder, trying to calm her down. “You can go buy something for your son, okay?”

“Oh thank you.” Darcy gushed, “thank you, officer.” She went into the lounge, as Officer Hoffings watched her. She dug around in her purse, not having any other cash besides the twenty she put with Coco. But she had change. Darcy could tell that Hoffings was getting impatient by the time she had pulled out enough quarters, dimes and nickels for the two dollars and fifty cent package of Frito chips, which was a crime for Christs sake. It took her two tries to get a nickel in, because her hands were shaking. Not because of emotions, no, it was because she hasn’t had anything to eat and she took a caffeinated pain medication. Almost double the first amount.

When the bag finally fell, and Darcy had it in her hands, Hoffings had enough. “Let’s get you-”

 _“All agents in position. Start the mission t-minus 3 minutes.”_ The radio buzzed on Hoffings shoulder, and Darcy froze, glancing at the radio and at the fake cops -agents?- face. His hand went to his gun at his hip, and Darcy punched him.

Hoffings stumbled back, finally taking out his gun and aiming it at Darcy, but she was already prepared for that. Twisting his wrist with probably more strength than needed, the gun dropped into Darcy’s waiting palm. Then in one smooth motion, she pulled his arm behind his back and kicked out his legs, pressing the gun into his head.

“Now,” Darcy whispered darkly, “you’re going to tell me what this mission is.”

“Go fu-”

Darcy pistol whipped him so hard his head snapped to the side. “Say that again, I won’t hesitate to shoot. Now, please, enlighten me of this mission.”

“I’m not going to tell you anything.” The man spat out blood.

“How about this instead. Yes or no questions, okay?” Darcy tightened her hold on his wrist, “every time you lie to me, I am going to push your arm up an inch, okay? And if that doesn’t start helping your memory, I’m going to start breaking your fingers. First question, do you know who I am?”

“Yeah, you’re a crazy bit-.” His answer broke off into a yell as Darcy pulled his arm up and the shoulder popped out of it’s socket.

“Try again. Do you know who I am?” Darcy waited, and counted to five before pushing up again and the man broke.

“No, no I don’t know you.” His voice cracked.

“Good boy.” Darcy purred, “now, does this mission involve me? Or anybody fitting my description?”

“I -uh no.” He stammered, and Darcy pushed upwards before he yelled again. “No! God no, there isn’t anything like you in the mission. All we’re doing is just shooting a chick, that’s all! God stop it!”

“Okaaay.” Darcy drew out the word her voice still low, “you’ve made it to the final round of Jeopardy, congrats. Final question, it’s worth your life. Who are you suppose to kill?” Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back. The man was silent again, and Darcy made the final push and his arm broke with a satisfying crack. He didn’t scream, but let out a high pitched whimper.

“It’s. It’s the Black Widow, alright? We’re just. Finishing the job. She should’ve been killed but the guy who shot her had lousy aim, okay? Just. Please, let me go.” The man pleaded as Darcy took in a breath of surprise.

Natalia… They wanted to kill her? But- why? There was no time for questions, the mission had started already. Three minutes had already gone by. It was an instant decision, as Darcy pulled back and clubbed the man on the back of the head with his gun, wiping it down before tossing it on the ground. Let the real cops find this one.

Darcy grabbed her Frito's before stalking down the hallway, her purse strap in her hand, digging into the skin. It wasn’t a choice, it felt like. It was a matter of instinct. Darcy owed Natalia -no, Natasha- so much. Her life, her soulmate, her everything, she owed due to Natasha. And Darcy would be damned to let her get killed by some lowlife thugs who decide to gun after her best friend. Her sister.

There was a crash as something glass broke. The occasional grunting noise as somebody hit a solar plexus. The sound of a fight going on. Darcy hurried faster, rounding the corner to see another man dressed as a cop standing outside a door, and he startled to see Darcy there. Suddenly she was there, her fist coming up to deck him and his grabbing her wrist. He was trained, but wasn’t good enough. Even Darcy, 13, the one who wasn’t as good as 6 was with hand to hand fighting, could beat the shit out of the man. But she didn’t have time or the energy to give him a chance. Instead she pulled her wrist down at an angle until she could grab his wrist, and pulled him through the same maneuver as she did with Hoffings. Instead she let go of his wrists, dug her fingers into the side of his neck and _twisted_. Darcy almost didn’t register the sound of his neck snapping.

Natasha was in the room, trying, and almost failing to keep the two men, who were clearly much more trained than the two idiots that Darcy had encountered with, off of her. One of them had a syringe in hand, no doubt filled with something that shouldn’t be in the human system. For a brief second, Darcy was 13. The red hair, the flashing green eyes, God, even her grunts of pain sounded exactly like she did back then.

 _”I’m sorry,” 21 whispered, lowering the gun and then her throat was red._ _“I’m sorry,” Natalia whispered, when Darcy finally found her locked up in a dark room, blood dripping down Darcy’s hands because she just killed a matron and four armed guards and they_ needed _to leave. Her soulmate was gone, but that was simple, she just had to find the trail that would still be warm. “I’m sorry,” Darcy whispered too, as she watched Natalia walk away from her as everything they had ever known burned and screamed behind them to ‘open the door, please, open the door’. “I love you.” They had whispered together in hushed tones, sitting in the darkness when the martons were gone. “You’re my sister.” They had sealed a pact written in blood and their nightly horrors. “I’ll never leave you.” They had promised, but both had left with red dripping from their hands._

Darcy didn’t pause as she drew out the .45 from her waistband and took two shots. It had been mindless, but the bullets had been mirrored exactly on each of the men’s foreheads. Natasha faced away from her, clutching at her side where red blossomed under bandages.

“Thanks Clint.” Natasha wheezed out, before turning her head and going still. Her green eyes went widened for a brief second and her breath hitched.

“Hi Natasha.” Darcy gave her a quirky smile. “What a complete coincidence, am I right?”


	17. Chapter 17

Although she had been trained in the art of espionage, Darcy felt awkward just standing there. Staring at Natasha with a hunky-dory smile on her face and a smoking (not literal) gun in her hand. It was difficult to keep from fidgeting as Natasha looked her up and down. She was waiting for her to say something. After all, it wasn’t like she got to see Natasha every day. It had been twenty-six years since they split, and they both looked almost exactly like they did then. Whatever the Red Room had done to them, it had kept their appearance youthful.

“You’re wearing uggs.” Natasha finally said, her voice even. “Why are you wearing uggs.”

“Because they’re very comfortable.” Darcy said lightly, “and you can’t complain. You’re in a hospital gown.”

Natasha scowled, “they cut off my suit.”

“To be honest, I don’t even know how you can work in that thing. It’s too tight, I bet it pinches.” Darcy commented, and they both looked at each other for a second before the air of tension released. Darcy let her shoulders slump and gave Natasha a bright smile. “Hi, it’s been a while.” She held out her hand (without the gun in it).

Natasha eyed her hand critically before grabbing Darcy’s wrist and pulling her in for a hug. “Too long.” She agreed.

Darcy held Natasha tight, and then let go. “So, Natasha huh? Whatever happened to Natalia?” She kept her tone light and teasing.

“Natalia was too princess-y.” Natasha waved her hand around, dismissing the topic. “Are you still Darcy?”

“Yep!” Darcy popped the p. “I’ve never kept the same last name for a while though.”

“Figures. I managed to track you down around twelve years ago, but you had been gone long before I got there.” Natasha said, “but you certainly left the place in an uproar. Churchill? I believe?”

“Oh god,” Darcy moaned, her face turning a little pink. “You know about that.”

“It was scandalous.” Natasha continued, her mask finally falling away to reveal a smirk and a knowing glint in her eyes. “A bride, running away on the day of her wedding.”

“To be honest, I did send him a note afterwards.” Darcy was positively red now, “and in my defense, his mother was a total attention hog. And a gossip.”

“Why did you even agree to marry him?” Natasha asked.

“I was drunk, I had like a bottle and a half of vodka and suddenly there is this guy and it was like Vegas but smaller and in a petty little town. I had only been in that town for like, three weeks. And he already decided I was his ‘one.’ He proposed when I was drunk and I woke up with his mother calling me and asking what my bra size was.” Darcy bemoaned.

“You’re still considered a missing person still.” Natasha mused, and Darcy made a choking noise. “He still thinks that you were kidnapped.”

Darcy made another dying noise. That gave her a brief smile from Natasha, and she counted that as a win. It was like a tight vise that had been around her heart had eased, knowing that Natasha was still kinda the same, deep down inside. She hadn’t changed too much, a reassuring and yet also a depressing thought.

“So, all of those years…” Darcy trailed off, “you’ve been in that agency thing?”

“Shield?” Natasha nodded stiffly, “yes I have. They took me in a few years after we split.”

“Wow. A long time. Was it any good?” Darcy asked, as if she was commenting on the weather.

“Could have been better. You know, the whole secret nazi party in it spoiled it a little.” Natasha shrugged, “but it also could have been worse.” She added quieter.

Darcy hummed in agreement. “So…” Darcy trailed off, trying to think of something to say. In a few minutes, somebody was going to have to say the words, ‘wonderful weather outside’ soon and it might be her. As much as she owed Natasha a lot, she hadn’t really thought about having a conversation with her again. It was hard to keep the conversation going, and it felt like the only things they had in common was their past and Darcy definitely didn’t want to talk about that.

Then there was a small beeping noise. Darcy and Natasha glanced down at one of the men’s body, still and unmoving. A large red puddle forming around his head. Darcy was the first to squat down and touch him. She pushed his jacket up to reveal his belt, along with a security badge on it and a clip on case with a phone. Darcy unclipped the phone and slipped it into the large hoodie pocket, as she moved the jacket further back. There was an obvious lump where his gun holster should be, and Natasha might want it. Instead of a gun, there was a bundle of wires and a brown paper wrapped package. What drew Darcy’s eye was a series of numbers flicking down.

“Shit.” Darcy said, at the same time as Natasha.

There was a hurried scramble, and there was no time for words. There had been less than fifteen seconds before the bomb blew, and they needed to get out of the blast range. And depending on what exactly was in that brown paper wrapping, it could either be just in that room, or the whole hospital.

“I could really wish for some pants right now.” Natasha spoke easily as they sprinted down the empty hallways of the hospital.

“You’ve done worse,” Darcy said, “remember Prague?” She wasn’t very out of shape, but if she kept this sprint up long enough, she would start breathing really hard. Damn doughnuts.

“Oh please,” Natasha rolled her eyes, “I remember something similar happening to you in Algeria.”

Then there was an exit sign glowing green in front of them, and then a shockwave hit Darcy along with an earsplitting vibration that could only be called as a ‘boom.’ Darcy hit the floor, and a second later, so did Natasha. An alarm started up a few seconds later, and it made the half dark hospital look like it was from a horror movie. They both looked at each other, and Darcy was at a loss for words. There was a long moment of silence stretched out between them.

It kinda hit Darcy at that moment that _Natasha_ , her sister, was there. Right in front of her. Sometimes, Darcy had even thought Natasha had been killed a long time ago. No words, no messages, no nothing in _years_. And finally, she was right here in front of her. Her red hair, strangely straightened, even though she had pretty natural curls. A slightly ripped hospital gown that barely covered her modestly, and none at all in the back. Her green eyes, judging her and looking over Darcy like she was doing to Natasha. This was all real. And this was all happening _now_.

“So,” Darcy said her voice quivering for a second before returning to normal, “lovely weather we’re having.”


	18. Chapter 18

Phil Coulson was not having a good day.

At Shield, there are many days that are good. Some are bad. But the only way to really tell if you have a bad day is if Coulson is giving off the ‘I will shoot you’ vibe. Nobody has ever lived to tell the tale if they pissed Coulson off during one of those moods. Well, nobody except Clint Barton, because somehow he got recruited. (Hawkeye loves to tell all of the younger probie agents that because he pissed off Coulson during one of his moods, he basically forced to be a Shield Agent to suffer along with Phil. Of course, Clint isn’t very believed in once the probies saw him shooting senior agents with a nerf gun.)

These days, however very rare they are, have seemed to come more often than not. The last time was almost eight months ago when a giant slime monster got him and disintegrated his favorite suit, leaving him completely naked in the middle of Alabama. (Nothing really phases him anymore, but that was his _favorite_ suit, goddamit.)

Nonetheless, Coulson was having a very bad day. And that meant that the rest of Shield had a bad day too. There wasn’t any visible sign that Coulson was upset, no, he was his regular self. With that small tiny smile on his face, his eyes catching everything going on around him, his suit cleanly pressed and neat. He spoke in the same tones, no any outward appearance telling about his feelings. No, the only sign that Coulson had was the very fact that everything around him was cold. Not temperature wise, but emotional. Usually Phil has this warm feeling around him, even if he was about to shoot you in a pair of boxers you’d still underestimate him. But when he is having a bad day, oh no. Anybody would take one look at him, and know that this man was not to be messed with.

Today was one of them. Probies scurried away from him, senior agents duck their gaze from his eye contact, some poor woman took one look at him and almost spilled her coffee on herself as she turned and walked back the way she came from.

The _only_ thing that could _possibly_ get worse, was if Clint was feeling a similar way. Which, to all the poor Shield agents, he was. Clint wasn’t like Phil when he got angry, no, he showed that anger. He didn’t consider any of the consequences as he glared and snapped at everybody near him. But put him and Phil feeling angry together? It happened only once in Shield history, and it ended in tears. Many, many tears. (Mostly from all of the office employees, because all of their filing system suddenly caught on fire, and Agent Maria Hill had to cut her hair because it got singed. It was not a good week in Shield history. Nobody ever talks about it. Ever.)

And so, Agent Phil Coulson along with Agent Clint Francis Barton stalked down the hallways of Shield, while everybody got out of their way (or out of the building) as quick as they could. Clint’s arm was in a sling, and his nose was taped up. Phil’s suit was ripped in a few places, and plaster dust covered him from head to toe, but the sight of them was terrifying.

Simply because of one small reason; Natasha Romanov is their soulmate.

Because she is their soulmate, they know for a undisputed _fact_ , that Natasha was alive. Not dead, like everybody seemed to think she was. No, her words on their skin was black as the first time it appeared. The bomb that went off in her hospital room had decimated everything, leaving a large crater. The only thing that the Shield Scientists can get from it was that there was, indeed, somebody caught inside of the explosion.

And there was only one single person who knew what happened in that hospital room, and they were both determined to figure it out.

Jonathan Caffrey was found passed out down the hallways, and the blast zone, of Tasha’s room. He had a concussion, a broken arm, and a gun lying at his feet. If that wasn’t guilty enough, he was impersonating an officer. An officer that technically didn’t exist. Joey Hoffings was in the system, but when asked around nobody had even heard of a Joey Hoffings. Online, he was real. In real life, he wasn’t.

So it begged the question; Who hacked into the police data system and put in the false data? Stark was already on it, trying to trace it back to the source. But whoever did it knew their way through all the firewalls and left without much of a trace. They were smarter than the average Joe, that’s for sure.

The bomb itself was untraceable, the chemicals used to make it were unusual enough that it wasn’t just a random terrorist attack. This could have come from anybody that the Avengers had fought, and that was an unsettling thought. More often than not, the villains they faced had many connections.

It wasn’t like Tasha couldn’t handle it herself, making it out okay and contacting them via text or phone call. No, the problem was the fact that she _could_ handle it herself, and she _would_. It was a leftover from when she was in the Soviet Union. She was trained to work by herself first, and with a partner last. And she still hasn’t gotten over it yet, no matter how many times Phil had told her that Clint and him were there and they had her back, she’d still walk into a Hydra base with two pistols and an extra clip on her belt alone with no backup. Sometimes it worked for the better, maybe saving somebody's life on the team. Sometimes it didn’t work, and she’d be buried alive under a building as it exploded on top of her.

“I never claimed I was smart,” she would always say, whether Phil had her in his office and was lecturing her, or if she was in medical with three broken ribs and bruises all over her face. “I knew I could have used help, but I also knew there was a chance that I didn’t.” She would always give Phil that soft smile, a smile only for him and Clint. “I always take that chance.”

Natasha was never perfect, and that’s why they loved her. She might appear calm, deadly, or whatever persona she’s decided at that moment. In the end, they were all human. They all had their own faults, and Natasha hid them. That’s why she was so important.

Fury was waiting for them outside of the interrogation room. Coulson leveled one look at his colleague and friend and Fury tilted his head. Clint just glared at Fury, as if stopping them for a few seconds would put them behind.

Fury studied them for a few seconds, before nodding. “Just don’t kill him.”

“I won’t.” Coulson said calmly, and Fury stepped out of the way for them to enter the room. It didn’t take long before the first strangled yell of pain to appeared.


	19. Chapter 19

Natasha didn’t even have to ask.

Once they were out and away from the hospital, sitting in a motel in the dirtier part of Brooklyn, the comfortable silence between them turned cold. Darcy sat on the questionable bed, staring at her hands while Natasha moved around. Darcy had thrown her duffle bag at Natasha when they had gotten into her stolen car, and now the reality really hit her.

Her sister, an ex-soviet assassin who Darcy grew up, was wearing her Thor themed pajama bottoms and her Hulk sweater. Natasha was part of the Avengers. One of whom, she had knocked out… was it really yesterday that she talked to her soulmate? It felt like ages ago. Like a distant memory. It wasn’t like she could forget it, no, but it had been pushed back into her head. Darcy felt like crying, her soulmate wasn’t the priority anymore. Now she was stuck with whatever Natasha decided with. Was she going to turn Darcy in? For whatever she did?

The thought hit her. She had killed three men. Not only two hours ago, she had snapped the neck of a man, and shot two in the head. And it was only now she was finally realizing it? They could potentially take her in for homicide. There were outstanding warrants in other states still, they could easily find out who she was. They would lock her up, wouldn't they?

God, her life was so messed up. _This is what you get, Darcy_ , she told herself. _You went back to the past, and this is what is happening. You talked to your soulmate, and now everything is coming back to haunt you_.

Darcy took in a shuddering breath. She had _tried_ so hard to leave everything behind. She didn’t want to anything with her past, but it couldn’t stay away from her. This isn’t what she wanted from life. She wanted to eat doughnuts, she wanted to watch the fifth season Dog Cops that was coming out in two weeks, she wanted to travel the world. Darcy didn’t want to go back to the emotionless, depressing, empty shell of the life she lived before.

What was she even doing? Natasha went into a different path. She stayed in the sea of blood while Darcy tried to wash it off of her. They were so opposite, it wasn’t even funny. Natasha was still so much like 6 sometimes it scared Darcy. The only thing connecting them together is the fact that they grew up around each other. Now? Darcy hadn’t a single clue about Natasha. Like, what is her favorite icecream? What songs does she sing when she’s doing karaoke? What is her favorite color?

Darcy couldn’t really deny it. They were both strangers.

Finally, Darcy looked up from her hands. Natasha was leaning up against the wall, studying her. Maybe even thinking the same things. They looked at each other, and Natasha’s face softened and changed. It was only small movements, but Darcy could see what she was asking. Years of reading Natasha came in handy. They both silently spoke to each other, for what seemed like ages, until Natasha glanced away.

And just like that, Darcy’s tension left her. All of her worries vanished. Darcy smiled to herself before taking in a breath. They were still so much alike, thank goodness. Natasha will stick with whatever Darcy decided. “So,” Darcy said, breaking the silence, “who are we going to go kick ass?”

Natasha held up the phone that Darcy had liberated from one of the men she killed. Then turned it around for her to see the sleek logo.

“Let’s go pay a visit to Justin Hammer.” Natasha purred.

* * *

 

For a person who claimed to rival Tony Stark in genius, he sure was an idiot when it came to his security. Darcy strode through the hallways with her head held high and with the air of confidence. Nobody looked twice at her, or at the poor replica of a badge pinned to her blazer.

Hammer Industries was really easy to infiltrate. Darcy hadn’t had to break rhythm since she walked through the huge double doors, as she easily walked into the unguarded backroom to pin her hair up and slap on the badge.

“Three to the left.” Natasha spoke through the bluetooth earpiece that Darcy had in her ear. They had to make a few stops before coming here, one at a thrift store to get something professional and another at a local tech shop. Now, Natasha was lying very comfortably in the trunk of another car, which was stolen yet again, with Darcy’s phone and a laptop with illegally obtained files of Hammer’s blueprints.

Which were, of course, online. Idiot.

Surprisingly, Darcy was calm. She knew she should be freaking out a little inside, but the moment Darcy became ‘Michelle Parkson’ she was ready for anything. With a knife strapped to her thigh under her pencil skirt, and yet another hidden inside purse along with her taser. And if she was in trouble, Natasha won’t hesitate to help her.

Of course, that would mean the Avengers would be alerted. Because everybody thought that Natasha was dead.

(“Trust me, everybody thinks an Avenger is dead at least twice a month, this isn’t really any big news.” Natasha said. “Besides, a bomb wouldn't take me out. And they know that.”)

“Excuse me?” A small hunched lady walked up to Darcy, and going by her rumpled clothes, an intern. She was holding a cardboard tray full of mugs. “Would you like a coffee?” She offered one to Darcy.

“Sure.” Darcy snipped, and took one and took a small sip. No identifiable poisons or drugs. It was actually quite tasty for corporate coffee. “Next time, add more sugar.” Darcy brushed past the intern rudely. She had to keep up the appearance of a senior worker, and interns were obviously treated badly. (That, and all of the online reviews left by previous interns said so.)

That didn’t stop Darcy from slipping a five dollar bill into the interns pocket as she moved away. Nobody paid attention to Darcy as she sipped coffee from the mug, walking down the hallways with a purpose. (It was one of the first rules they told them, in the Red Room. “Have a purpose, and people don't question it. Look like you know where you are going. Know how to act like you’re important.”)

Darcy left the empty mug of coffee on a desk as she finally came to the elevators and pushed the up button. She can easily fool the newbies of the company who knows a senior worker by the way that they walked and talked. Now she was going up into where the actual senior partnerships worked, and they knew each other by name.

Thankfully, Darcy had gotten a nice blouse under her jacket. The elevator wasn’t empty when Darcy walked in, but she picked an inconspicuous floor number and waited until it was empty. It didn’t take too long. As soon as it was empty Darcy hit the ‘stop elevator’ button, and it shook as it stopped.

There weren’t even any camera’s in the elevator. Literally no security. At all.

“Changing.” Darcy mumbled to Natasha.

“Copy that.”

Darcy shucked off her blazer, pinning the ID tag to her professional white shirt. She flipped it onto the other side, and instead of an employee picture, it had the basic visitor’s ID. She pulled her hair from it’s tight bun and let it fall down around her face. She pushed it back, making it tactically messy and a little sexy.

“You did get my appointment into his calendar, right?” Darcy asked, unbuttoning her shirt a few times to show just enough of her cleavage to get a good idea what’s underneath, but not enough for a full view.

“Yep.” Natasha said, “wasn’t really a problem. Apparently he likes call girls as much Tony.”

“Tony Stark made appointments with call girls?” Darcy snorted.

“When I was his secretary, yes. Not anymore now.” Natasha mused, “and don’t ask. It’s a long story.”

Darcy hit the button again, and the elevator started up. “I would never ask such a personal and prying question as to why you were Tony Stark’s secretary and the knowledge that he totally had sex with professional prostitutes. _Never_.”

“Ha ha.” Natasha deadpanned.

The elevator opened to the floor that Darcy wanted, and she walked out with a suggestive swing in her hips. She passed a garbage can which she draped the blazer in. There were a few people who stared at her, but they either gave her a dirty look or completely ignored her. Apparently this was a common sight. Darcy didn’t spare anybody with lingering looks by giving them a wink or a dirty smirk. There was a large desk, and a secretary giving Darcy an unimpressed look.

“I’m here for, uh, Mista Hammer?” Darcy added a thick Bronx accent as she leaned over the desk, giving the woman a peek of her boobs.

“He’s expecting you.” The secretary sighed, and pointed towards the door behind the desk. “Try to keep the noise down, will you?”

“Sure thing, Sugar Tits.” Darcy winked, adding a swish to her hips as she moved towards the door. It opened silently as she approached. The office was big, probably too big to be of any use. There were shelves full of books, and judging by the small layer of dust on them, not very used often. It was a typical office, made to impress whoever came in.

To be honest, it wasn’t very impressive to Darcy. But she let her eyes widen and she let out a low wolf whistle.

“Nice office.” Darcy commented, her gaze landing on Justin Hammer. He was, if he was her type, sort of handsome. But for a weedy man, he certainly tried to make up for it in a rich suit and slicked back hair. He was trying to hard to look good that it was making him not look good, if that was a thing.

“Who are you? Why isn’t Cherry here?” Justin asked, as Darcy came forwards.

“Cherry got in an accident. Won’t be available for months. The company sent me instead.” Darcy sat in the chair in front of the table, letting her legs fall open a little. Justin was checking her out, “my name is Araneae, but you can call me Amy for short.” Darcy could hear Natasha snort.

“Well, Amy. You are certainly beautiful.” Justin leaned back in his chair, “why don’t you come a little closer.” He beckoned with his finger.

Darcy did so, moving with all the grace that she had. She straddled him on the chair, her pencil skirt hiking up. She avoided kissing him, because _ew._ Instead Darcy leaned forwards and started to neck him. He tasted like aftershave, and there was an overpowering smell of cologne. Which really sucked and there was no way that Darcy was actually into this. His hands came up to her hips, and Darcy started to suck a hickey on his skin.

Darcy dragged her hands down his chest, her hand slipping into his jacket. His hands came up from her hips, dragging up under her shirt, and Darcy had a split second to decide if she really wanted his grubby mitts on her boobs. Then remembered that this was Justin Hammer, and decided _hell no_.

Instantly a knife was in her hand and it was pressed up against his neck. He froze, taking in a sharp breath.

“Sorry, Mista Hammer.” Darcy whispered, “but you’ve done something very, _very_ bad.”

“Uh, I am not into knifeplay.” Hammer said, and Darcy rolled her eyes and huffed.

“I meant the fact that you tried to kill somebody very recently.” Darcy leaned back, her knife still against his throat. “I know you’re behind the bombing in the Brooklyn Hospital.”

“Oh.” Hammer said, his eyes going wide. His face paled. “Oh.”

“Yeah. Now, I’m going to ask you a few questions, and if you don’t…” Darcy trailed off, her knife pressing harder into his neck. “Well, I guess I don’t want to be you.”

“If-if you think you can just get me to talk then you’re going to have k-kill me.”

Darcy leveled him with the most unimpressed stare that she could muster before drawing her knife away from his throat and got off of him. Hammer let out a sigh of relief, but a calculating look came into his eyes.

“Mista Hammer,” Darcy leaned back against the desk, “I really don’t like torture. If you understand my meaning. What I am going to do is give you a chance.” Her voice was smooth, “right now my friend has just hacked into your mainframe. You really oughta keep your computer more secure. Now, you have two choices. I can release all of your schematics for any future gadgets out on the web for any of your competitors to see, and any other dirt I can find on you. You’d go to jail, along with the fact that the Avengers will not very nice to you because you killed their teammate. _Or_ , you tell me why you killed the Black Widow, and who else helped you.”

“I don’t believe you.” Justin sneered, “you don’t have anything of mine. My firewalls are impenetrable.”

“Say this,” Natasha said, and Darcy repeated what she said.

“Well, gee. Whatever are we going to do with these blueprints of phone batteries that can charge up to 60% of it’s energy within a half an hour? Although it’s a real pity, because after thirty five minutes it bursts into flame. Are you sure these should be on the market so soon?” Darcy gave him a pityingly look as his face paled.

“I’m not- I didn’t kill the Black Widow. Y-you have no proof!” His voice got loud as he suddenly stood up.

“Actually,” Darcy pulled out the phone from her purse. “It’s this one of your new prototypes? One that was made, maybe a week ago? Funny, it says online that you personally test every prototype that’s in it’s early stages, and it says in your logs that there have only been three phones of this type made. Now, wanna explain to me, Mista Hammer, why this was found on a body of a man who set the bomb off?”

Justin Hammer’s eyes flicked from the phone and then to Darcy’s face, before finally slowly sitting down in his seat. “Alright. I’ll tell you what you want to know.”

“Perfect.” Darcy gave him a silky smile.

“I was contacted by some old friends of mine. They’ve been in some rough times in the last few years or so, and they asked me to help them. I did, but I offered a price. I mean, I can’t go off and give some idiots some of _my_ designs without giving me something in return. But I gave them a discount.” Justin shrugged, speaking in a light tone of voice. “Now, I didn’t know they were going to go after the Black Widow. I thought they were going to use it in their little projects. If I had known they were going to go after an Avenger, I would have made them pay the full price.”

Darcy’s grip on the knife tightened, “wanna give me their name?” Darcy asked, “because you seem to be avoiding sayin’ it.”

“Well,” Justin sighed, “I can’t give every beautiful woman company secrets. Even if they have a knife in their hand. You’re certainly pretty enough, yeah, but my mind is getting a little fuzzy. It comes with being a genius, I can’t keep it all in my head.” He rubbed his index finger with his thumb.

Darcy was just about to give him exactly what he wanted, her knife through his hand, when his intercom buzzed.

“Sir, you’re three o’clock appointment is here. Shall I send him away?”

“No, Clara, we’re done here.” Justin said cooly, pressing the button. “Give me a minute and send him in.” He looked up at Darcy, “well, gee. Sorry Amy, I really want to help you. I do. But, ugh, I just can’t find any time. I hope you understand.”

“It’s alright, Mista Hammer.” Darcy gave him a shark-like smile. “You’ve done more than enough.” And she turned, fixing with her hair and biting her lip to make it slightly swollen. It only took a few seconds for her to look like she just had a quicky before she left the office. She almost bumped into a plain looking man in a suit, and instead only knocked shoulders with him.

“Sorry, Hun.” Darcy said in a husky voice, making sure she had a small, yet noticeable, limp. On the way out, she made sure to give Clara a blow-kiss and give a leering man the finger.

Of course, when Darcy got onto the elevator, everything went to shit.


	20. Chapter 20

This was the easy part of a mission. High tailing out of the building, and disappear before Hammer could do any nasty surprises. As much as an idiot he was when it came to security, there was a reason as to why he was considered smart. Although not Tony Stark smart, but high up in the scale.

It took a few minutes for the elevator to arrive, but Darcy was okay with that. She patiently waited, doing something trivial like look at her fingernails or straightening out her pencil skirt.

“Status?” Natasha asked, after waiting for a few minutes.

“Waiting for the elevator.” Darcy mumbled to herself, not moving her lips. There was a prickling sensation across the back of her neck. She was being watched, but she kept herself relaxed as she waited for the doors to open.  And then finally, the elevator arrived with a small ding. Darcy stepped inside and hit the button to go down to the underground parking lot.

“Wait, hold the door!” Somebody called, and unthinkingly Darcy stuck her hand out as the doors began to close. There was a man, with sandy blonde hair and green eyes. The only oddity that made him stand out was the fact that he wasn’t wearing a suit, just a faded purple shirt and some jeans. “Thanks.” He said, as he leaned over and pressed the button to the level just under Darcy’s.

There was a silence in the elevator that made Darcy want to have her phone with her. She hadn’t realized how much of an excuse her phone was in the first place, because if she had it in her hand then she wouldn't be standing here just looking at her nails while the elevator slowly moved downwards. If only she had her earbuds with her, then maybe she could pretend listening to music. Darcy reached inside of her purse, intending to shuffle around some of the items so it would look like she was busy.

“So,” the man asked, and Darcy looked over at him. “You uh, come here often?” Darcy looked him over. His arms were muscled, small scars spotting across his arms. Was this some sort of mechanic? He was dressed too casual though.

What was this? Some terrible pick-up line? As if. “Nah,” Darcy said still in her Bronx accent. She didn’t add anymore to her answer.

“Well, I was just wondering. You know, for a friend.” He shuffled his feet around. “He kinda likes you. Thinks you’re pretty.”

“I sure hope this friend of yours isn’t in your pants.” Darcy snipped, her hand wrapping around her taser. It was comforting feeling. It wasn’t like she was going to use it, but it felt nice.

“Oh no! Not me, I got uh.” He gestured to his neck, where Darcy saw small words stamped in the shape of web. “Soulmate.”

“Huh.” Darcy said, her eyes picking out a few words, which were surprisingly in Russian. ‘ _...never needed a second chance before…’_ Came out in alarming detail. Still, it was considered rude to read somebody’s soul mark, and Darcy look away.

“So, your’s is on your stomach, right?” He asked, and Darcy froze. He continued, nonchalant, “that’s what you said in your letters. To Bucky.” To say it was a shock was like saying electricity is a small buzz.

Darcy’s stomach lurched at his name. She had been trying everything to get him out of her head, including this little operation. And now-

“Shit, Darcy get out of there.” Natasha said, but it was too late. His hand clamped down on her wrist, stopping her from taking her taser out.

“Don’t make me-” He started to say, but just like what Darcy did to James, she didn’t allow him to finish his sentence. The meaty part of her palm came up and snapped up against his jaw. His mouth had been open, and his teeth snapped shut. He was fast too, even as he spat blood out of his mouth. He had her wrist behind her back and was forcing it upwards. Darcy braced her legs against the wall of the elevator and took a few steps and pushed off of the wall. She twisted as she was in the air so that her arm wasn’t in danger of being yanked out of its socket as Darcy flipped over his shoulder and brought out her knife her hand grabbing him by the collar. Her foot kicked out and hit the emergency button, and the elevator stopped with a shuddering halt. He broke her hold in his arm, ducking underneath her and his foot coming out to kick her legs out from under her. In retaliation, Darcy grabbed his shoulders and shifted her weight to her hands as she somersaulted over him. But he caught her ankle, and suddenly he was over her, her knife in his hand and pressed up against her throat.

“You-” the man breathed hard, blood still coming from his mouth, “you seem a decent fellow. I’d hate to kill you.”

“You seem a decent fellow.” Darcy gave him a tight smile, “I’d hate to die.”

And then they were moving again, Darcy’s hand coming up and pushing the knife away from her body, twisting out from under him. He was already rolling to his feet. They gave each other a second to look at the other, and then his hand came up with the knife flashing. Darcy parried, but his other arm came in and Darcy took the brunt of the blow with her elbow. She was in the defensive position, while was attacking. Occasionally there would be a window of opportunity and Darcy would take it by landing a few punches. (Darcy hadn’t felt so grateful in her life that she was wearing gaudy sharp rings before.)

And then finally the knife managed to fall to the ground, and Darcy dove for it. But he went for a tackle, shoving her against the wall, her head banging against the wood paneling. He pressed against her, keeping his arms around her, trapping her own arms to her sides. Darcy grunted, but her legs were too tangled up to get him off of her.

“So, like.” He breathed, “where did you learn this stuff?”

“Oh nowhere.” Darcy let sarcasm drip into her voice, “just this guy called Miyagi. Was crazy about waxing stuff, you know him?” Her arm wormed downwards towards her purse.

“Yeah. Squish, like grape.” He gave her an extra squeeze. “I don’t suppose you have a yellow 1948 Ford Super Deluxe convertible, would you?”

“Nah, sold that a long time ago.” Darcy’s fingers were just touching her taser.

“You know what’s weird? You know Tasha.” He grunted, “Bucky found that out before we left, she said nothing about you. Then she got shot. So you wanna tell me why Nat is suddenly missing, and you’re at our only lead?”

“Not really no. Thanks for asking though.” Darcy said.

“It really wasn’t a question.” He squeezed her tighter, and Darcy let out a sharp hiss. “Who are you?”

“None of your business.” Darcy wheezed, before her finger found the trigger on her taser, and suddenly the man was jerking. There was a little moment of joy as Darcy watched him fall to the ground, lying their limply. Darcy carefully stepped over him and hit the stop button again, and the elevator continued its way down.

It felt like a small miracle that the elevator didn’t stop until it was Darcy’s floor. The parking garage was cool to her skin, and it suddenly made Darcy aware of how much her head hurt. And then- Natasha was there.

“Idiot.” She snarled, looking from the man and then to Darcy.

“Are you talking to me? Or to him?”

“To both of you.” Natasha snapped, and Darcy was mildly surprised at how emotional Natasha was.

“Are you two-” Darcy looked from the mans neck and then to Natasha, the light finally clicking on.

“Clint and I are soulmates. And we have another one.” Natasha pursed her lips, holding her arm out to stop the elevator from closing. “Now, are you going to stand there, or are you going to help me drag this idiot to the car?”

Right, it was hard to remember that Natasha was recovering from getting shot. Sometimes it felt like she was perfectly fine, but Darcy knew better. They both had learned to ignore the pain, make it insignificant rather than predominate. Darcy knew, however, she was not going to like it if she kept on bugging Nat about her soulmate. Neither would Darcy, if Natasha was doing the same thing to her. Instead she kept her mouth shut and grabbed his arms and awkwardly dragged him over to the car. Not because he was heavy, no, but because it would be hard to pick his surprisingly bulky body from the ground and that might mean she might grab his flat ass and Nat might actually kill her or something. So yeah, awkward dragging bit.

The door to the backseat of the car was already open and Darcy managed to avoid grabbing Clint in the crotch or ass as she heaved him inside of the car. “Wow, random thought just occurred to me.” Darcy mused, looking at the bent figure sprawled across the backseat of the car. “I am kidnapping an Avenger. With an Avenger. To find out who wanted to kill an Avenger. Am I right?” Darcy smiled as she turned towards Natasha, and then abruptly froze.

Natasha was pointing a gun at her.

Darcy’s smile faded away.

“Natasha?” She asked, a little tiredly.

“It doesn’t take an moron to see that you turned the other cheek.” Natasha said softly, “that you’ve never wanted to kill another man again. Or hurt somebody. I can’t let you…” She trailed off, blinking rapidly.

“You don’t want me to come with you.” Darcy sighed, “you don’t think that I would kill for you.”

“No, it’s because I know you would.” Natasha replied, “and I don’t want you to ruin what you’ve got.”

“ _Natalia,”_ Darcy murmured in Russian, “ _you know I will be here for you. I will always look out for you. I’ll have your back.”_

“ _It isn’t that simple.”_ She bit out, “ _you’re risking everything here. Once Shield has you on their radar they won’t let you go. You won’t stop running.”_

 _“Then maybe it’s time to stop.”_ Darcy whispered, “ _I have somebody who might want me. After all this. I think. I’m sure, he and I, we had a misunderstanding. Once everything has been told, do you think Yasha would hate me?”_ It was probably true, now that she thought about it.

“ _We’re not talking about him.”_ Natasha shifted her gun, “ _I’m telling you. You don’t want this life. There is too many lies. Too much red.”_

“ _Then I can only think of how it affects you.”_ Darcy took a cautious step forwards, “ _I won’t hesitate to get my hands dirty so I can drag you from the red sea. I’m already there. We can support each other.”_

“Darcy,” Natasha closed her eyes for a brief second, “please don’t let go of your innocence.” And then she moved, her fingers tightening on the trigger. But Darcy was prepared, a knife in her hand from when she stepped forwards, only having to bring it up quick and letting it touch Natasha’s neck.

Their eyes connected, fiery green against ocean blue. For a long time, they didn’t breathe, just stared into each other eyes.

Natalia was just trying to protect her, Darcy knew that. Trying to keep her safe, at the expense of her own safety. Darcy didn’t know what was going to happen after this, whatever Natalia was going to do was a mystery. She didn’t know who Hammer had referred to, but Nat did. But going to do it without Darcy, while also recovering from a serious gunshot wound, it would take a lot more than just simple words to push Darcy away.

And then… A sudden flash of memory sparked at their situation.

Two ballerinas. One holding a knife. One pointing a gun. Doe eyes becoming glassy. A clean and quick death. Blood spilling out of a cut across the throat.

Darcy suddenly wanted to laugh. If she had let it out, she knew it would have been hysterical. To think, after all this time, this would happen to her again. Even so, she knew what her response would be now. Even though she was faced with a hard choice back then, this one seemed simplified. Easy to understand. There wasn’t any way to explain in words the feelings that seemed to change every second, except it be described in one single word.

 _Finally_.

“I’m sorry.” Darcy smiled just as 21 did, as she dropped her knife and took a step away, never breaking eye contact with Natalia.

There hardly was a moment of hesitation before a gunshot snapped through the air, and she collapsed.


	21. Part 3- Once Upon a Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"I know you, I walked with you once upon a dream._  
>  _I know you, that look in your eyes is so familiar a gleam_  
>  _And I know it's true that visions are seldom all they seem_  
>  _But if I know you, I know what you'll do_  
>  _You'll love me at once, the way you did once upon a dream."_  
>  _-Lana Del Ray (Maleficent)_

Natasha sent up a location beacon a day and a half Clint had disappeared. Which really wasn’t a surprise to find them both in the middle of what seemed like nowhere, and Clint had a black eye and Natasha looked like she hadn’t been shot. In fact, Natasha had even curled her hair.

Bucky, however, was not impressed. _At all._

While everybody all heaved their sighs of relief at the sight of Natasha leaning up against an on beat up truck, Bucky was feeling a little more of the ‘fucking hell, this shit again’ moment. Because seriously, whoever said that Natasha wasn’t dramatic was lying. She is probably the most dramatic woman he had ever met, which is saying something. For example, Natasha had gone to go visit Clint at his apartment complex, and a half an hour later she was walking in smelling like gunpowder and her hair had been cut unevenly on one side of her face. Bucky, by then, had known not to ask what had happened, but Tony Stark, may his everloving curious fat ass live, had given her a double take and blurted out the question.

Tony gained three stitches and a mild concussion within the ten minutes after asking the question.

Okay, so dramatic might not be the word he was looking for. Natasha had a certain flair. A style. Something she happened to be smug about it. There was a set of rules that all of the men had agreed on, the first is never ask Natasha what happened to her hair. The second, never question her ability to suddenly turn up in random situations knowing a lot more than she should know. Third, never, ever, eat her Cadbury chocolate. (Trust the list. Always trust the list.)

(It should also be known about the one time that Thor ate all of the chocolate, Thor did not like the outcome. Neither did his love, Jane, who was also a victim of circumstance. They don’t really talk about it. Ever.)

(They didn’t leave the bathroom for two days.)

And so, Bucky was not amused by the fact that Natasha and Clint seemed just _peachy fine,_ in the middle of _nowhere_ , and Natasha was looking at them with that half amused half calculating look. In fact, he was trying his best to give her the best death glare that he could muster at the moment. But it was kinda put aside when Phil walked off the Quinjet and rushed to his soulmates.

Bucky watched as Phil walked fast to his soulmates, and exchanged quiet words with them. Phil was composed, and then he let his facade crumble and pulled Natasha in for a hug. He lowered his eyes once Clint joined in, and they all huddled together.

It pulled a string attached to his heart at the sight of it. The, he guesses the word, _love_ that he saw as Phil drew back and then cuffed Clint at the back of the head and said something, and Clint gave him a dopey smile.

He could have had that.

Maybe.

Could have. If he hadn’t messed it up. Messed it all up like he messed up his entire life. Whoever she was, the fancy doll with lips that could sin and tasted even sweeter, was gone. Out of his life. He waited. In the tower. Watched all of the videos. And street cameras. Everything. Stalked the mailroom, going through the mail before the workers did, looking for her familiar handwriting.

It had nearly been three days. Well, actually it was more like four days now. It felt a lot shorter, due to all of the things that had happened. Giant spiders attacking Brooklyn, kissing his soulmate, staying up and barely sleeping as he tried to find a hint of where she was, and then the Natasha situation.

There is a time and place for everything, and honestly, Bucky didn’t appreciate that Natasha had to pull one of her stunts _now._

Phil gained his composure, and the odd trio of soulmates had managed to reassure the other that they were fine. Steve was next to him, steady and like a rock. His mere presence was helping Bucky stay focused. Instead of thinking about her. Steve, his best friend. His platonic. Was this how Steve was? How he felt? Knowing that when he woke up, Bucky was still there, but Peggy wasn’t? How did he survive, knowing and meeting his soulmate, and then finding out that they moved on.

It was… difficult.

But Bucky had done a lot of difficult things before. And he could certainly survive this. Whatever _this_ was.

“So, why exactly are we all here?” Tony was the one who asked the question (as always), gesturing to where nearly all of the Avengers were assembled with the exception of one. “I mean, not that I’m complaining, I’m missing a board meeting right now, but Nat, what’s up?”

“About two miles from here,” Natasha pointed east, “is an A.I.M. base. From what we’ve seen, it’s a branch that includes Hydra and military weaponry. We think it might be where they are making their weapons, from the technology that Hammer sold them.”

“And I’m here because…” Bruce trailed off, raising his hand a little. When they raided big stores like this, Hulk wasn’t involved due to the fact that he didn’t like explosions and bombs. Sensitive nose or something like that.

Clint and Nat exchanged looks. “We saw Blonsky there.”

Bruce let out a rather big sigh, and walked back aboard the Quinjet.

“Great.” Tony sarcastically rolled his eyes, “the Abomination is there. Is anybody else there while we’re at it? Zemo? Red Skull? Hell, is Doom there?”

“No, but we might think there is some connection between the US Army and this base. Saw some soldiers over there, maybe six or seven hours ago.”

This time it was Steve who heaved a sigh. Honestly, America’s military standards had really fallen in the last seventy years. Bucky didn’t even think it could disappoint him even more after his trail, and the military wanted him to be put away and tested on due to his serum. Thankfully, Pepper Potts saved the day, and so did the Stark’s PR department. But working with Hydra and A.I.M.? At the same time, together?

Well, gee. Too bad it will be blown to smithereens within the next few hours. It would take a while to take the base down. It was like digging up an ant hill with a spatula. Annoying because there was a lot of unnecessary swarming and little bugs that liked to bite.

“It’s Alabama.” Muttered Tony, shaking his head. “It’s always gotta be fucking Alabama.”

(They don’t talk about the last time they were in Alabama either.)


	22. Chapter 22

The first feeling Darcy had when she regained consciousness was the knife splitting feeling of a migraine right behind her eyes. The next was awareness of her surroundings. She was on something soft, comfortable. Something was draped across her. There was a sudden urge to stretch, which Darcy couldn’t stop as her entire body seemed to suddenly remind her of all of her aches and pains which she had accumulated that day.

Surprisingly, she didn’t feel like she had gotten shot. A tranquilizer, maybe?

The memories of what had happened didn’t rush into her head like some stories said. Darcy didn’t have that moment where everything crashed down on her of the actions of whatever Natasha did. No, when she woke up she perfectly knew exactly what happened.

Finally, Darcy braved the world and opened her eyes. It was a mistake, as her headache increased with the light, and Darcy immediately closed them. And opened them again, trying to get her eyes to adjust to figure out where she was. It took a lot longer than Darcy would have liked to for her to finally adjust in her surroundings. From what she could see, she was in a hotel room. Her purse sat on the bed a few feet away, and nothing else seemed out of place besides the blanket that was twisted up in her feet.

Darcy felt… rested. Strangely enough. But then again, she had gone almost two days without sleep, plus the scare of… James. She wouldn't be surprised that she was out a lot longer than she should have at this point, because her body would have taken advantage of her rest and let her sleep in more. Which was, at this point, okay.

Darcy heaved in a sigh and let her head drop back onto the pillow. She didn’t want to move, and at the moment she didn’t really have a reason to. Some part of her wanted to get up and track Natalia down and kick her ass (which would maybe happen but with a lot of hair pulling on both sides), while the other half just threw their hands up in exhaustion. Why should she? Why should she go after Natalia, even if it was so clear that she didn’t want Darcy to be around? If she didn’t want her around her, why should Darcy even put in the effort? And for now, Darcy let that feeling of exasperation and loneliness settle into her bones as she laid there.

However, it was certain, that when (or if) Darcy saw Natalia again, she was going to seriously going to get it. Because, first off, it was Darcy’s choice to follow her. Even if it meant danger, it would still certainly mean that Darcy would make sure Nat was alive after it was over. It was her choice, her call to make, and Natalia took that into her own hands. Plus, she shot her. Which Darcy had mixed feelings about. (For one, being incredibly stupid for getting shot in Justin Hammer's parking lot, and two, letting go of her knife. Which was really, really stupid.) It just meant that Natalia was high up on the shit list as James was.

And speaking about James.

Darcy rolled over, sighing loudly to herself. What was she going to do with James. Barnes. Could she maybe think of him as Bucky? She had purposefully stopped trying to think about him, doing anything she could to stop letting him invade her thoughts. He had betrayed her, at the zoo. Had almost shot her. ( _But didn’t actually shoot you_ , a traitorous voice in her head pointed out, _unlike somebody you know_.) But now that time had passed, and Darcy was finally alone in her thoughts, it became glaringly obvious of what had happened.

These were the cold hard facts.

One, her soulmate watched her take down two men. Probably men who were with him. Plus, she had gotten rid of his BFF in a tiny mob of children.

Two, she had never actually clarified on how they met. From the occasional hints to unhelpful nudges, it was really all up in the air for him. He obviously didn’t remember her, from when they had met before. It was human to start making assumptions and accusations.

Three, there wasn’t any hard proof that she was his soulmate. From the first letter she sent, an entire month ago, Darcy had been treating it like a piece of shit. James must’ve gotten hundreds of letters like hers before, but whatever she wrote in the first one, must’ve been out of the ordinary for him to pay attention to it. And to think she was Hydra.

Four, Darcy was a total idiot to think that it would be a normal not-date. First off, he was a superhero. Second, he was a recovering POW who had overprotective friends (see; Captain America) and the whole situation felt like a creepy blind date from Tinder. Except she had lied about her picture, and was completely different from what her description was.

Five, she had been utterly, and totally, blind to all of it. Too caught up in her fake dreams of her soulmate coming in at random parts of her life to actually think about all of this. It would have been natural for him to have some questions that would have been awkward. Like, for instance, being Hydra. That had really, _really_ threw her off. She had been too blind to the fact that she was seeing everything of his, and he knew next to nothing of her. Darcy had been careful to not put in any leading or important information in her letters, because she was paranoid. Maybe she was right to do that, but it all led up to one thing.

It was all a complete and utter misunderstanding. (There was a part of her that didn’t want it to be a misunderstanding. For her to continue being angry and feeling betrayed. But Darcy silently pushed that down.) She didn't know what she'd do if she saw him again. Maybe she could explain things. But she knew that she couldn't keep a grudge against him knowing how it must've look from the other person's point of view. Yes, he still made her heart flutter, but no, she wasn't going to seek him out. Stubbornly pushing the thoughts about Bucky out of her head, she had to first move. 

Darcy sighed once again, before rolling over to her purse and rummaging through it. No, there wasn’t a note from Natalia. No, there wasn’t any knives or guns. The only exception being her taser, which only had one charge left. A tube of lipstick, a newly discovered bundle of freshly printed money (where did Natalia get this?), and her almost dead phone.

Darcy checked the time, and groaned when she saw it. It was lunchtime, which wasn’t so bad. But nearly two days after she had been knocked out. She had been sleeping for almost _two days_ , of which Darcy blamed the tranq and her body’s need for sleep.

She had a few missing messages from Wendy and Margo, a few messages being a lot actually. She hadn’t really the time to answer them before, and they were all getting increasingly worried and shorter. Still, they were her friends. It was kinda sad to think that in the entire month that she had been in New York, she hadn’t really given them a thought.

_Sorry, couldn’t find a charger. Brooklyn a mess. Plane flight canceled. I think I might stay here and help out. I’m unhurt, just helping with other volunteers. I promise to stay safe._

Darcy typed out, and stared at the message for a few seconds before sending it out. And then sighed, for what seemed like the hundredth time before clicking the lock screen button and finally heaved herself out of bed. Her body protested. It like, boycotted every single movement, and made sure that it was sent to her migraine, just to annoy her.

Darcy was still in her hooker outfit, she realized, but her high heels were off. But she spotted her duffle bag by the door, and when she stumbled over to it, it had all of her things. But, you know, minus the knife hidden in the seams and a passport and ID to the name of Darcy Tolkien. Okay, first off. So wrong there. Darcy had her picture on that plastic card that had costed her almost two hundred dollars to buy. And second of all, now that Nat had seen them, Darcy sure as hell wouldn't use that identity again. Great.

Her phone buzzed a couple of times, and Darcy glanced at the messages. Wendy and Margo wanted to have daily updates on her health. Well, maybe this was the last time they were ever going to hear from her again. Darcy wasn’t sure if she should even _keep_ her phone, since Natalia had used it and probably knew her number now. It was an ordinary Verizon phone, with no protection against being traced.

Maybe she should abandon it after she finds a new identity, but for now, it was the only way she could stay connected to the internet. And the internet is very, very handy in situations like this.

Darcy stripped off her clothes, and pulled on her last pair of jeans and a t-shirt. But then there was a chill that Darcy couldn’t stop, so she pulled on her last jacket and curled up in a ball. Her head was spinning, her body was hurting, and there was too much fucking drama in her life right now. Even she had her limits, and right now, it was getting really hard to not cry. Natalia was so nice to be around, it felt like a clean fresh breath of air. But she didn’t want Darcy nearby. James, god, who knows what James is doing. Is he even looking for her? Does he even care? What is she going to do? Run away? That is so easy to do, but in the light of things, it might be the wrong move. Maybe Nat just wanted her to stay here. Maybe James will let her have her own space (and Darcy might wait for him to make the next move, and then it would finally take _forever_ for them to talk again).

There are too many maybes, too many questions, too many possible answers it was making her migraine hurt more.

Then Darcy that she was.

Crying.

She let out a few hitches of breath, opening her mouth because her nose was useless at this point, and pressed her face into her knees. It felt like every single repressed emotion that Darcy had ignored came back with a force, and she just felt so _lonely_. There is just too much stress. There is just too much of _everything_ , and she needed to take a step back and stop.

Darcy pressed her face harder against her knees, taking in wet breaths, slowly counting down from fifty. It was a meditative trick somebody had taught her a long time ago, back when she had panic attacks almost every day because of the Red Room. It was relaxing, and it helped clear her head. By the time she hit twenty, she felt a little floaty, and thankfully not as confused as she once had been. By ten, she had stopped crying. By five, Darcy felt her heart beat slow down.

Four.

Three.

Two.

One.

Darcy took in a long breath, keeping herself stable. She had let go. And right now, she was going to stay in this position until she felt brave enough to go back into the world.

It was relaxing.

Freeing.

As if nothing else really mattered anymore.

Made things simplified.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

And finally, at some point, Darcy woke up. Not in a figurative sense, but more in a literal sense. She had dozed off at some point, which was unknown to her, and when she finally woke up she felt refreshed and a little bit better than what she had been before. Her migraine was gone, a blessing, she was sure of it. But still, her aches and pains were still there, but were much more manageable.

Life had to keep on moving. Although Darcy would have loved to stay and sleep on the slightly questionable hotel room floor, and ignore life for the rest of her existence, she knew she had to throw herself back into the constant flow of life. Things were happening. Although she dragged her feet, Darcy finally put on her sneakers, checked the room one last time to see if she missed anything from Natalia, and zipped up her duffle bag. It sucked. But it came with being an adult.

Funnily enough, with that thought, Darcy was suddenly reminded about Coco and Nutmeg. And suddenly felt terrible for not thinking about them at all while she was with Nat. Well, the hospital got _blown up_ , and Darcy didn’t even think about the newborn baby girl and Coco who was lying in bed, asleep.

Maybe Darcy should go and check on them. With a quick google search, Darcy found out that the Brooklyn Hospital Center had been evacuated, and all of it’s patients had been transferred to different hospitals around New York. Great.

So, where should she inquire about Coco?

Well, the answer was probably obvious enough. Go to the one person who stuck her nose into everything.

Penny.

Which should have been simple, but ended up a little more complicated than Darcy thought. Because she didn’t think she would be faced with yet _another_ Avenger so soon. She just can’t seem to get a break.

Seriously, it was like she was in some sort of fictional novel or something.


	23. Chapter 23

Darcy tried to smile. She really did. Honest. But it came out more like a grimace and somehow Darcy knew that the gig was up. Entirely up. And if Penny kept on giving away secrets, something bad was going to happen and it wasn’t going to be her fault.

“-it is so nice to know that both of you are so well connected. Are you sure you’ve never met before? Darcy is such a wonderful cook, didn’t you take some cupcakes over to the-”

It really all began like this:

Darcy, all emotionally upset and fairly unbalanced due to either tranquilizers or the simple fact that her sister shot her, came all the way into Brooklyn, which at the moment was in utter chaos, to ask Penny where Coco and lil’ Nutmeg were being held up. You know, simple stuff.

Exception being the fact that Brooklyn had been invaded by giant spiders only three days ago, the streets were still a mess, and nobody wanted to drive Darcy into what was called ‘the danger zone.’ Which was stupid. The reason as to why it’s ‘the danger zone’ is because it’s full of druggies, prostitutes, and all kinds of bad characters who had all lost something in the attack and needed either money or something a lot more valuable from a passersby. So despite the fact that Darcy could possibly get mugged, the other bad thing for women, or maybe possibly shot by some weird circumstance, Darcy pulled up her (sadly metaphorical, damn you Nat for stealing her) panties and walked right in. Her wad of money stashed in one shoe.

She didn’t get fifteen feet in before she was pulled into an alley and a cold barrel of a gun pushed against her head. Of course, it didn’t take any time at all before the questionable mugger was disposed of (not in the way you are thinking, the poor dude just has a egg sized lump to his head) and Darcy was on her way again. Thankfully it only happened two times (you know things were getting weird if the good thing is if Darcy only got pulled into dark alley ways twice) before Darcy was in the familiar streets and avenue of where she had spent the last month. ‘The danger zone’ was passed, although it was still a danger to be in such a crowded place with so many people who had all lost something in the attack.

It was midday, and the area where the women's shelter was in a flurry. People walking everywhere, hammers being banged on wood, the smell of hot chocolate in the air. It was almost freezing outside by now, even though the sun was still fairly high up in the sky. Even though it was cold, a lot of people just wore t-shirts and jeans. Maybe because it was all that they had. But then again, they were all dripping sweat all over the place as the worked fixing up the buildings that had been damaged and setting up temporary shelters.

And this is where Darcy found Penny, and the very nice, yet very noticeable, young man she was talking too. Darcy didn’t have time to turn around and back out of the crowd, and she was definitely too late, because Penny (who Darcy had the feeling that she had a pair of eyes in the back of her head) had already seen her and called her _full name_ out in the middle of the crowd.

“Darcy! Darcy Lewis!”

And this is where Darcy was swearing like a sailor in her head, keeping the grimacing smile on her face and nodded as she shook hands with Sam Wilson.

 _Yeah, you read that right_.

Sam Wilson.

Aka, the guy who worked at the Veteran's Physical Therapy across from the women's shelter. That one place that Darcy had been meaning to get to the last few weeks, but hadn’t because she’s been distracted by _letters_ and _tweets_. And, from the way that Penny had been talking, he was Wendy’s friend who asked for somebody to come to New York. He was the reason she was in New York in the first place. The reason why she had sent that stupid letter in the first place, the whole shebang started with this man.

And by guessing the look on his face, he knew exactly who she was.

“Mr. Wilson,” said Darcy with a half strangled voice, “so nice to meet you. I was planning on meeting you at some point, but some things have been coming up recently.”

“It’s alright.” He replied, still staring at her with that ‘oh fuck me’ look. “I completely understand. In fact, I totally understand everything.”

“Oh, you two look so adorable together.” Gushed Penny, having no sense when to stop. “I’m so glad that you’re here, Darcy. Maybe you could show him a thing or two about cooking.”

That’s when Darcy noted that Sam Wilson was wearing ‘kiss (not kill) the cook’ apron and a spatula gripped in one hand. He was a volunteer, just like, it seemed, everybody else working.

“Yeah, maybe.” Said Darcy, and then took in a deep breath. “Mr. Wilson,” she began.

“No, please, call me Sam. Mister is too formal for me. Reminds me of my uncle.” He said, nodded sharply.

“Do you think…” Darcy glanced away to look for somewhere secluded. “That we could…”

“Sure. I don’t mind. Not at all. In fact, I’d really like to hear what you’re going to say.” Said Sam, who untied his apron and left it and his spatula as he walked away. “Here, let me take you to my office. It’s quieter there.”

Darcy trailed behind him, not quite sure how this was happening to her. Of all people. This was her. Doing this. The building had a homely feeling in it, as she walked in. Darcy passed several rooms that had chairs pulled around in a circle. Until finally, Sam walked into a room that was smaller than the bedroom that she had been in for the last month. He was leaning up against an even smaller desk.

“You’ll have to excuse the lack of people,” said Sam, “they’re all out there, helping rebuild the area.”

“That’s nice of them.” Darcy nodded, still standing in the doorway. “So…”

“Yeah.” Sam sighed, “I can’t believe that I’ve got to know your name before Bucky.” He grinned, “and managed to shake the hand of the prettiest woman I’ve seen all day.”

“Oh,” Darcy, feeling her face heat up as she smiled a little. “Thank you. Although I’d have to wonder how many women you’ve seen today.”

Sam gave her a grin. “I’ll keep the number a secret.” He said, and it was just like that most of the tension in the room was gone. Man, he was good at deflecting that kind of stuff. But still, they were going to have to talk about the elephant in the room at some point. Darcy didn’t really like beating around the bush (only when she wasn’t trying to wheedle something out of somebody is the only exception), so she just went with it.

“So, you’re my soulmates best friend, right? What is he like?” Darcy asked, shifting around a little.

“Okay, the title of best friend goes to Steve honestly.” Sam nodded, “but yeah, I’d like to think that I’m a friend of his. Also, that stunt you pulled at the zoo? With the little kids? Gold. Absolute gold.”

Darcy laughed to herself softly at the thought of Steve Rogers being swarmed by kids. It was still really hilarious, now that time had passed. “It just happened.” Darcy shrugged, “you know. Gotta think on your feet.”

“So, did you serve?” Sam asked.

“Oh, no. I didn’t. Not an army type of gal.” Darcy shrugged, “did some other stuff. Not too pretty stuff, but I got to meet my soulmate.” Again she wasn’t quite sure how to address him again. In letters, James was too personal. Now, in front of his friend who referred to him as Bucky, it felt too formal. So, she settled on ‘soulmate’ for now.

“Do you mind me asking how exactly you met? Or should I ask you for your favorite color?” Sam asked, and Darcy was surprised that he was giving her an option as to what she was answering. So she decided to go with the hard question, because she didn’t want her past to be a secret anymore. And if Sam was a friend to her soulmate, she could trust him. And if not, Natasha would get him.

“Oh. We met… well. We had met a long time before we exchanged words. I didn’t even know who he was, just that he…” Darcy trailed off, biting her lip. “He was dangerous. When I met him. But now, I guess, I don’t know what to think. It had been black and white, and you knew what side you were on. But now… I don’t even know him. God, what is his favorite fruit? Or what are his hobbies?” There was a chair, and Darcy sat heavily on it.

“Well, he doesn’t like bananas, they had changed when he was in the ice. I think he likes peaches or cherries the most, but it's a toss up. And his hobbies include shooting, stalking random people in the tower, running around like a total jackass, and brooding. So much brooding.” Sam replied. “Seriously, I am not kidding about the brooding bit. Although, he’s gotten a little bit more worse since you met him a few days ago. I would like to think that he wants to make up with you, but won’t actually go and talk to you. Like, he has that whole ‘selfless martyr’ thing going on so strong.”

“Really?” Darcy asked, “I mean, he might have the jawline for a good brooding, but the real question is… does he pout? I can handle an angry teenager brood, but a pout I cannot attest with.”

“At least it isn’t Steve,” shrugged Sam, “he has those goddamned wounded puppy dog eyes I cannot tell you how effective they are. Both of them are so blind to some things it’s ridiculous.”

“Okay, so knowing my soulmate, what is the worse case scenario that will happen if we see each other again?” Darcy sighed.

“It’s not you, it’s me. I can’t have you in my life, it’s too dangerous being an Avenger.” Sam deadpanned, and Darcy blinked.

“No way.”

“Yeah.”

“Does he even remember me? Like at all. Ever. Things would be so much simpler if he remembered that I am _not_ some damsel in distress.” Darcy pinched the space between her eyebrows. “Okay, second worse scenario?”

“He won’t even talk to you, he’d either send me, Steve, or a fruit basket.”

“What the hell.” Darcy shook her head. “Okay, so somebody is going to have to know this. And you seem kinda trustworthy. You can keep secrets, can you?”

“I’d like to think I can. In some ways I’m a therapist to some of my vets.” Sam nodded, after pausing for a few seconds to think.

“Okay, so. You’re the first person to know that I’m alive besides Natasha. Because everybody thinks that I’m dead. I’ll just say it.” Darcy took in a deep breath. “I am a…” The words paused in her mouth. “I was in…” Again it didn’t come out. “I worked with…” Didn’t work either. “I grew _upwithNatasha_.”

There. The words were out.

“You… grew up with Natasha.” Sam repeated, his eyebrows coming together. “Okay, so. I don’t get that. I mean, I know she’s gone through a lot with whatever but I don’t look into her history.”

“Okay, this makes it a little harder.” Darcy sighed, the little air of hope in her chest deflating. Great, so she was going to have to explain this. With details. “So, waaay back them. A long long time ago, in this galaxy, I’m afraid. I don’t…” Again the words stopped and she was unable to speak. “This is so hard to explain.” Darcy groaned, leaning back in the chair.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to.” Sam said.

“No, I need to say this. To at least one Avenger. And you have this trusting feeling about you. And Natasha likes you. _So_.” Darcy shrugged for what seemed like the hundredth time since meeting Sam. “That means you’re okay.”

“So, you and Natasha are close?”

“We are sisters.” Darcy explained, “not by blood. But because we both… survived.” There. That was a word. “We are close, I would like to say that a lot. But sometimes it feels like we are strangers. We’ve been apart for a long time, I feel like we’re completely different people. But then she’d say something, and I’ll do something, and it feels like it’s okay. Like, everything is okay. You know that?”

“Yeah, I get that feeling sometimes.” Sam nodded along.

“So, me and Nat, we… we were both raised in the USSR. Soviet Union. Specifically in this place called the Red Room.” Sam didn’t seem to know anything about what she was talking about, so Darcy continued. “Basically, there were twenty-eight orphan girls, and they were put into a rigorous training program to… make them all weapons. Not humans. Not girls. Weapons. And out of the twenty-eight, only two survived in the end. Me and Nat.” Somehow her voice dropped, so that Darcy was only whispering. “The specific program that we were both in was called the Black Widow Procedure.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” Darcy blurted out. “When we were both much older, and when they were thinking of making only one of us survive instead of two, they decided to finish our training with a visitor. They called him Zimniy Soldat.” Darcy looked down at her hands. “The Winter Soldier.”

“Holy shit.”

“Yeah.” Darcy nodded quickly, still looking at her hands. “So, I am, for the complete record, not helpless. Not a damsel. Not afraid of danger.” She looked up at Sam, determined. “I would still really like to get to know my soulmate. But if he tries to hand me off like I’m not worth his time, I am going to hunt his ass down and stick a bullet in it.” She paused, “actually, I still might do that because I am still kinda angry with him. I understand his reasons, but that doesn’t excuse his behavior.”

“I am never getting on your bad side,” said Sam, “never.” And then his phone rang. The first few chords of ‘ _Party in the USA_ ’ rang out, before he answered. “Pizza Hut what can I get for you,” he said in a false falsetto tone of voice, and then paused. It was a long pause, and Darcy could hear somebody speaking rapidly on the other side. It was that kind of long pause that you knew something bad was going to happen.

“Oh.” He said, “shit.”


	24. Chapter 24

Attacking the base was poking a wasps nest with a stick, and then telling all of the wasps ‘yo mama’ jokes. Of course, the metaphorical wasps were actually men, all wielding dangerous looking guns. And, interestingly enough, the ‘yo mama’ jokes were real. Tony was firing one off every time he got a new dent in his amour. Which wasn’t often, because it was hella strong, but it did happen if a rocket launcher got a little too close. Of course, it really did infuriate the AIM goons, so they all went into a frenzied shooting spree at Tony, who mostly shrugged it off and said another joke.

However, just like a wasps nest, the base felt like unending waves of people kept on coming out. From the ground, it might have felt like thousands were there, because every time Steve took one goon out, two henchmen took his place.

Clint Barton, the good looking, and very majestic man, was perched up high watching the battle continue while firing off arrows at unsuspecting yellow dressed AIM goons. He was very thankful at this moment that he wasn’t down on the ground where Nat and Steve were. Because it was like watching ants swarm around a rolly polly bug. Except this rolly polly bug had a shield and very, very sharp set of knives that could potentially zap people, so still, a very bad metaphor. And besides, why did he keep on comparing people like bugs?

“Yo mama’s so stupid, she doesn’t know what a mitochondria is!” Tony said, and then there was more rapid gunfire and some faint cursing about Tony’s parents.

Honestly, AIM goons are such nerds. But also apparently smart, but not smart enough to go against being evil and stuff like that. Because why have mad scientists? Because somebody decided that the world should need that.

Hahaha. Yeah right.

Clint shot off another arrow, and barely glanced back to watch it sink into the hands of a man who was about to shoot Steve in the back. It went through both. Steve’s shield went up and smacked the poor mans chin, and he collapsed, but by then Clint had shot off five arrows and was already turning towards another target.

“Aww.” Clint said, as a roar shook the compound, and right from under Steve’s and Nat’s feet, the ground crumbled. A giant red… thing. Man thing? More like… a Cheeto accidentally got mixed in with the flaming hot Doritos and then had an allergic reaction. But like, red. Anyways, Steve and Nat got the hell away, as did some fortunate AIM soldiers, but the rest were being either falling into the collapsing structure from where Abomination came up from, or were being the Red Cheeto Dorito’s play thing.

Hey, that kinda rhymed.

“Come out come out, wherever you are.” Red Cheeto Dorito called out, in a gravelly and haunting voice that was far too loud for something that… muscular.

It didn’t take long for a rather familiar roar echoed that which Red Cheeto Dorito had done moments before. Then Hulk was there. “Hulk! _Smash_!” Hulk flexed his arms and six pack, and Clint suddenly felt that maybe the poll going in the New York’s Time was a little wrong about who had the best biceps (which was, of course, going to be him. Have you seen his babies?).

“Aww,” whined Clint again, “ego.”

Everybody was wise enough to leave the two mismatching Christmas colors alone while they ripped apart the whole base so they could throw chunks of whatever they could get their grubby mitts on. Honestly, Clint was far away enough he felt like he was watching an anime or maybe he should get some popcorn. Yeah, popcorn. That’ll hit the spot.

“Hawkeye, it’s time to take Blonsky down.” Steve said, in his Captain America voice. Full of the American Truth and Justice.

“Aye aye, Captain Crunch.” Clint said, as he pulled out one of the Hulk tranquilizers from his quiver. Although it wouldn't make Blonsky sleep, it would forcibly pull his heartrate down so that he’d be a regular human. Then it would only be a matter of seconds before Clint would have to shoot Hulk before he decided to smash Blonsky before they could get to him.

Of course, he was Hawkeye. This was easily done before Clint had to blink again.

Hulk and Cheeto Dorito both collapsed within a minute, and soon Bruce was blinking up at the sky, holding onto his overly stretched pants while Blonsky was flat on his back cursing up a storm. Clint watched as Steve and Nat headed back over there before Blonsky could get up again and Bruce would have to face fighting without his alter ego. (Which, is actually really terrifying, btw. Bruce, if he wasn’t a mean green fighting machine, was a total ninja and could easily kick ass. And knowing Bruce, he’d probably karate chop Blonsky in the face just for the fun of it. That asshole was a real dick to Bruce.)

It was just like that, the mission was completed. They could get Blonsky to spill who exactly was working for AIM in the army, (Clint’s guess was Ross, but nobody would take him up on his bet. Said it was too easy, because it was obviously Ross. Damn it, he wanted a new set of furniture in his apartment in Bed-Stuy, Lucky had chewed through them all. Katie-Kate said it was because it smelled like pizza, but Clint was suspicious that Kate was doing this on purpose because a chair had broke while she was on it, and was blaming it on the one-eyed adorable pizza loving dog. Which wasn’t fair, at all. Because besides the whole ‘what have you done, you bad boy,’ Clint can’t exactly ground the poor dog. Plus, he has a better wounded puppy dog look that was better than Steve’s. And Lucky only had one eye. Which was saying something) and they could chill out and eat some icecream when they got back. Hulk and Blonsky had basically ruined the base, either killed or trapped the AIM scientists inside, and it was going to be Shields problem. After all, Avengers need to get _some_ rest, don’t they?

Clint hooked his bow across his shoulder and clambered down the tree gracefully. (Did he say gracefully? He meant fall out of it. Oops.) And laid on the ground for one long, terrible moment. (Read: he knocked the air out of his lungs.) Before he decided that there were too many bugs on the ground for comfort (really, what is up with his bug comparisons today) and so got up and walked in the general vicinity of where the quinjet was. Because he was not going down into the battlefield just to hover over Steve and Nat give the ‘talk’ (not the one of birds and bees) to Bonsky.

Finally, now he had some time to think to himself.

He really hadn’t the time to do so before, not when he was on a mission with Nat and making sure nobody really died. And that included him. But now, when everything was done for and the mission was a success, Clint was 99% sure this would be the only time to really think on about what Nat had said to him earlier. Because after this, debriefing, sleeping, and eating would come. (Not necessarily in that order. Or at separate times.)

_“So who is she?” Clint had asked earlier that day, riding in the passenger seat of an old pickup truck they had ‘borrowed’ from a sleazy looking guy who had the balls to whistle at Nat. Of course, he doesn’t have any balls now. Not after Nat was done with him._

_“Who?” Natasha answered, and Clint didn’t believe a single word. (Well, technically it was a single word. Which he didn’t believe. Okay, whatever.)_

_“Oh you know, hot chick. Big tits. Nice as-ck.” Clint had started to describe the woman who he had seen leaving Justin Hammer's office with a noticeable limp and disheveled hair when Nat’s elbow shot out and decided to give his kidney a nice wake up call. (Ugh.) He had noticed her when he was scouting out any suspicious activity as Phil went in to ask Justin some simple questions. (Cough, blackmail, cough cough.)_

_“Don’t speak of her like that.” Nat warned, and Clint who clutched at his side nodded weakly._

_“Yep. Got it. Won’t do it again.” Clint’s voice was up an octave as he rubbed at the area which was sure to bruise now._

_There was silence in the car as Natasha drove it south, down through Kentucky and Tennessee. God, he hoped that they weren’t going to Alabama. It was more than enough for him going into that state just once,_ once _, and he really hoped that they weren’t returning._

_He still felt sorry for the goat that he left behind, the last time he was in Alabama. Unfortunately, Thor had felt the same and now there are three separate odes to the goat that saved all of the Avengers lives, not including the part when there was a snowmobile (wtf Steve, it was the middle of summer, where did you even find that), an evil hedge, and the part when Tony lost his eyebrows in the resulting explosion._

_Yeah, they really_ never _talk about Alabama._

_“She…” Nat said, bringing Clint back into the conversation. “She’s my sister.”_

_Clint almost choked. Okay, so he was thinking more of the lines of ‘she is one of my informants’ or even ‘she’s my evil nemesis’ but sister wasn’t even on the list. (Was there a list? He needed to write it down one of these days, so he doesn’t forget something.) Yeah, Clint had a little hard time believing Nat, figuring he saw the curvy brunette and she didn’t look like Nat at_ all.

_“We made an oath to each other.” Nat continued after Clint had stopped coughing. “That we would be each other's family. We didn’t have any, before then. And when it was just the two of us against the world, it felt right to call each other sisters.”_

_“Okay.” Clint nodded. “That makes sense.”_

And they didn’t talk anymore about the subject. If there was one thing that Clint knew about Nat was that she didn’t let people get close to her, only the people who she saw were worthy enough could. It was her type of keeping the bad people away from hurting her the only way that she could be potentially destroyed from. Feelings, Clint knew from the base of his relationship with Natasha, were the biggest fear that Natasha had from. Sometimes she couldn’t help but fall for somebodies kindness, but if they turned on her she became… well. You could easily guess.

Clint didn’t push it. In fact, he was sure that Nat only told him because he had asked, and that he had actually met her… sister. Which was still really weird, because in all of the long years that Clint has known Nat, from the moment they exchanged words on the rooftop so long ago and Natasha bleeding out underneath him, he hadn’t a clue that Natasha had a sister. Or anybody she considered family. She had always been the lone cat. And now… this came out of the blue.

Something was up.

And Clint wasn’t sure if he really wanted to know.

By this time, Clint had arrived at the Quinjet and was suddenly faced with Steve talking on the phone who could only be Sam, and Natasha quickly packing all of the Avengers inside.

“What’s-” Clint asked and before he could finish, Natasha had already started to speak.

“Blonsky revealed that there was going to be another attack.” She said, as Steve finished up the phone call and jogged up the ramp and into the Quinjet. “He said that another woman was going to targeted close to the Avengers.”

“Pepper?” Clint asked, thinking of the first girl that was relatively close to the team.

“In Paris. Tony already has his security grab her.” Natasha explained. “But Jane Foster is in New York for a researching conference that’s happening in about a half an hour, and Phil can’t get ahold of any of the Shield agents who were her protection detail. We need to go, and if we’re lucky we can maybe make it in time.”

“Oh.” Clint sighed, “where is Thor when you need him?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know that the Abomination isnt the Red Hulk. But at the time writing this, I thought that he was colored red. Sorry.


	25. Chapter 25

Sam, who was quickly becoming Darcy’s favorite, gave her an out. “You can leave.” He said, “I won’t tell anybody that I saw you here today.”

Of course, Darcy wasn’t an idiot and knew something bad had just come up. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh, well. Turns out Natasha wasn’t the only target for AIM.” Sam was behind his desk and pulled out a few guns. Which was cool, because she totally needed one. “And the rest of the team is out of state, so I’m the closest one right now.”

He reached to grab the guns but Darcy’s hand darted out and snagged one. She put into her purse, and gave Sam a smile. “They attacked Natasha.” Darcy said, “and it sounds like Natasha had a ton of fun getting rid of them all without me. I suppose I can offer my service, just this once.”

“Okay.” Sam didn’t look like he wanted to object, and after the guns were hidden from view they fast walked out of the building. Darcy paused as she saw no vehicles on the streets.

“How are we- okay. That’s cool.” Darcy looked over at Sam who was pulling a very nice looking motorcycle from what looked like a hidden crevice behind the building. Perfect place to store a motorcycle from getting stolen. Plus, Darcy really had a thing for motorcycles. Especially if she was straddling one with the controls in her hands and it rumbling underneath.

Okay, it wasn’t a thing, it was more like an obsession.

Sam had a helmet, but he opted to give it to Darcy. She stared at it, in a very brief moment of clarity as to why she was doing this again, but Natasha had taken away her freedom to chase after the bad guys. This was her choice, and she was going to destroy all of those who had planned to hurt her sister. Except…

“Hey, you know you don’t have to do this.” Sam said, as he started the motorcycle up.

“Nah,” Darcy gave him a smile. “I just hope that Natasha won’t shoot me again for doing this.” And she put on the helmet and got on the bike behind Sam.

“Wait, again? She’s shot you before?” Sam asked, and Darcy sighed.

“It’s a long story.”

Sam didn’t reply, as he revved only once before shooting off. There was a distinct squeal as rubber hit asphalt, and Darcy was surprised that he was going so fast so suddenly she almost fell off. Instead she wrapped her arms around his waist and held on tight, hoping that they either wouldn't get pulled over or hit some sort of debris. The wind rushed past them, and everything felt so much faster than you did in a car, because you were outside and suddenly 30 miles per hour seemed a lot faster than it usually was. Of course, they were going a lot faster than that. Darcy didn’t look at the speedometer for fear of actually _knowing_.

It was actually kinda thrilling. The speed and the wind blowing on her face… she could only connect this to being on a rollercoaster. The adrenaline from this was a welcoming distraction as Darcy breezed through New York. It was a fantastic ride, and she was pretty sure she just fell in love with the bike.

(And just imagining James, straddling a sleek, purring motorcycle made all of her lady parts tingle. His rugged, cheeky look. The shiteating smile that he wore in that picture he posted on the internet, his hair tucked up in a man-bun and sweet baby Jesus that _arm_. Okay, no Darcy. This is not the time to think about him. Feelings, you have no place here. Stop it. You need to be angry with this low self-esteem man who has literally the best jawline you have ever seen. Now. Be angry.)

(It didn’t work.)

Darcy finally snapped out of her own argument inside her head when Sam started to slow down and go over those awful bump things in the road that are in school parking lots. (Do not, she repeats, do not have a high speed chase over these dreaded things because they can, and _will_ make you feel like an idiot who just ran over the neighbor's cat. Except, you know, big bump.) They were in front of a giant glass building that basically screamed ‘nerds work here’ with it’s sleek exterior and a couple of signs pointing to science conventions.

Okay, so Darcy actually hasn’t ever gone to a high school before. Ever. So, her science lingo comes from Bill Nye the Science Guy on netflix when she is really bored. (Science rules.) Anyways, this was far from the nitty gritty world of blood and guns and espionage. Which is cool, but this really wasn’t her scene. At all. Or ever, because Darcy didn’t quite get science.

Sam parked, and Darcy had enough time to take off the helmet before trying to catch up with him as he jogged towards the building. The building looked even more tech savvy inside, with televisions on all sides of the walls showing different things (although lacking a sports channel, Darcy noticed), neatly polished tiles on the ground and even an announcement board saying welcome.

However, their welcome didn’t stay very long.

It was only luck that Darcy had stopped to survey her surrounding, and that she wasn’t behind Sam when he was stopped by security guards.

“Sorry, you can’t come in here.” Said one lady guard who stopped Sam with a hand. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

“What? Why?” Sam protested, but that drew another guard who came over, and between the two of them, Sam was escorted out. The Avenger had caught Darcy’s eyes and his darted towards the now unguarded staircase that had a sign saying that there was an astrology science convention up there.

Right. Okay, she can do that. Without any real hurry, even though her heart thumped in her chest, Darcy walked up the stairs and followed the signs to the room where Jane Foster, of whom Darcy had briefly heard of before, was going to give a seminar about her research. Okay, cool. Get Foster, and leave. Right? Simple.

(Now that Darcy thought about it, didn’t Thor once do an interview naming his girlfriend as J-something? Okay, so Jane Foster might be a little important.)

The room was filling up with nerdy looking people, but Darcy didn’t see anybody that could stick out to her as Jane. There was one lady there, but she acted and looked more like security rather than a scientist. Besides, she was the only person there who was tanned, and didn’t look like she hadn’t been in front of a screen for most of her life.

However, on the table next to her she saw a bunch of badges and some of them said Doctor ‘blah blah’ or just the plain words of assistant. Darcy snatched an assistant off of the table and put it on, walking around the tables and people, going towards the backdoor. If there was a place to find Foster, she’d find her in the backstage area getting ready. That was logic, right?

A lot of people behind there looked like technicians who didn’t give Darcy a second glance. (However, her chest gained a lot of second, and even third glances. It was like they hadn’t ever seen boobs this close before. Whatever.) Finally it looked like Darcy wasn’t going to get anywhere without some help.

“Excuse me?” Darcy pulled a really nerdy looking boy who looked alarmed that a girl was talking to him. “Where is Dr. Foster?”

“Uh, she uh,” ah, yes the glance downwards, and the very visible swallow, “she asked to not be disturbed.”

“I have her notes.” Darcy clicked her phone on, showing tiny lines of words. (Actually, it was the third book of Harry Potter, but he didn’t need to know it.) “I need to get them to her. Where is she?”

“Upstairs, behind the door with the men in black.” He stuttered, glancing again at Darcy’s chest. Darcy snapped her fingers in front of his face.

“Tip, don’t look down when talking to a girl. She knows where you are looking at.” Really, it was like a girl hadn’t ever given the poor boy the time of day before. “A girl will be more impressed if you keep your eyes on her’s. You’ll get more dates or even a one night stand.”

The boy started to stutter again, but Darcy was gone already. There was a small stairwell going up, and once up in the hallway Darcy could easily see where Dr. Foster was. There were two goon-like men standing outside of a door, which could only mean trouble. With a capital T.

God, Darcy really wished she had looked Jane Foster online before this. Oh well, one of the men had spotted her first, and was staring at her. Darcy just kept her head up and walked with a purpose, just like she did when she infiltrating Justin Hammer's office.

(Belantently, the thought just occurred to her that she had necked Justin Hammer, and instantly felt disgusted. But really, she shouldn’t be thinking about that now, she had work to do.)

Darcy stopped in front of the men, and gave them her best innocent look. “I don’t suppose I can get past you two, can I?”

“No.” The man snipped, looking at Darcy like she was a piece of meat. Okay, it was one thing to have a cute nerd who didn’t know anything about women to occasionally look at her boobs like an innocent little lamb, it was quite another to have a man leer at her. So, yeah. This man isn’t going to get anything from her but a tase in the ass and a knee in the groin.

Darcy let out a long sigh. “Okay, so like. Here’s the story. I accidentally spilled coffee on Jane’s computer this morning, and hell hath no fury like an astrophysicist who doesn’t have her work when she’s suppose to present. So I got her her back up laptop, but since we don’t use it often it’s a little off on her work and stuff. Jane is like, having kittens because not only did I forget the backup file back at her apartment but also she didn’t have anything to eat this morning? God, this is seriously a bad day. So I got the file sent to my phone and all I have to do is plug it into the backup computer and hopefully Jane won’t fire me. Please, I just have to get this to her.” Darcy pleaded, and the two men exchanged glances.

“Email it to her.” The same man grunted.

Darcy’s mouth opened, and she raised an eyebrow at him. “Are you kidding? Please tell me kidding?” Darcy scoffed, looked down the hallway and back at the men, “have you ever seen your emails firewalls? It’s like having a deck of cards protecting it. There is no way,” Darcy raised her voice, “that I am sending you my Boss Lady’s important work through her email!”

“Leave. Now.” The other man snapped, and Darcy folded her arms.

“Really? Really?” Now Darcy was getting loud. “What kind of shit is this? I can’t get Jane’s files to her due to some jack-booted thug says I can’t even see my own boss? What kind of crap security is this?”

“Quiet down, or we’ll make you quiet.”

“Oh yeah?” Darcy cocked her head to the side, sending the two men her best ‘bitch please’ look. “I know this amazing quote from Monty Python and the Quest of the Holy Grail that goes like,” and Darcy starts to shout, “help! Help! I’m being repressed!”

The man who had been talking to Darcy started to move forwards, and Darcy was ready for him because she really wanted to break his wrist when the door opened and there was a really thin, but pretty woman. Jane Foster, Darcy guessed.

“Hey Boss Lady!” Darcy chirped, pushing past the two guards and into the room.

“Oh, did you get…” She trailed off, not very good at lying but Darcy nodded.

“Yep!” Darcy popped the ‘p’. “Got it all right here?” She waved her phone, and then pretended to notice the man who in the room. “Who’s this?”

“He’s, uh..” Jane Foster trailed off, and yeah, this was a bad guy. Okay, so like, Darcy really needed a plan.

“Smith.” The man smiled, and Darcy instinctively knew he was a snake. “John Smith, and you are…?” He offered his hand in a shake.

“Darcy Lewis.” Darcy took his hand, “ex-intern and now assistant Jane. I feed and water her when she forgets.” She wasn’t quite sure where these lies were coming from, but it really went with her assistant tag that she wore. “John Smith, is that a Doctor Who thing?”

He looked at her blankly, and Darcy waved her hand. “Nevermind, it’s just a reference to a show.”

“So, you have Doctor Foster’s research?” Smith asked her and Darcy glanced down at her purse.

“Oh yeah, I got it.” Darcy shrugged easily, trying to not notice his sharp snake like look, “Boss Lady forgot it. It was a mad rush to get here this morning.” Her hand went into her purse and curled around the gun.

“So how long have you been working with Dr. Foster?” Smith asked as Darcy pretended to rummage around in her purse, while actually getting her gun ready so she could quickly withdraw it and shoot without fumbling. She clicked off the safety.

“Oh, for a while now.” Darcy said, her tone still light and airy. “I think, maybe a couple of years now?”

“Is that so, Dr. Foster?”

Darcy paused slightly, already knowing the outcome.

“Uh, yeah. She is.” Jane agreed, but she was an absolute terrible liar and even Snake Eyes caught it. There was a moment of hesitation and then Darcy was the first one to pull out her gun and didn’t hesitate before pulling the trigger.

Except it was her taser, and Smith fell to the ground, jerking.

“Ah.” Darcy said, “well that just happened.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear Readers, both old and new, I unfortunately have reread this book and found it to be..... terrible. The idea of Darcy is amazing, aling with the red room. However, I have found that I have grown to the point where I think I can possibly handle rewriting it. I remember that the last few chapters that I had written were mostly me desperately trying to finish it. And because of that, I ended up making the ending the worst thing Ever. 
> 
> A few days ago I decided to rewrite Overture. Yes, the main components will still be there, but the whole story line will be reworked. I deleted the last three chapters of this book, and left it to where it could still be salvaged by somebody with a creative imagination. But if youd like to know the ending, it goes like so.
> 
> Darcy helps Jane escape but by doing so tips off AIM and they start firing guns and Darcy gets hit. Thor comes in, saves Jane, and viola, kissy kissy. Sam comes in as well, Darcy does some kick ass moves, and Darcy answers Sams phone when he is putting pressure on her bullet wound. Its Steve. She says something vaguely sexual, and Sam is a little horrified. 
> 
> (Darcy manages to talk to her soulmate on the phone, but I kinda hate that sooo exclude that for a bit)
> 
> The avengers come and Nats all super defensive over Darcy. Clint is coming over and teasing her, and Darcy meets Coulson and she threatens them for being Nats soulmate and the whole "keep her happy or I hurt you" stuff. 
> 
> Darcy didnt see Bucky bc he is hiding like a jerk. She is taken and healed by Stark, of whom she snarkly asks him if he really does find being short a problem to his masculinity. 
> 
> Some time later, after being healed and Nat stops threatening everybody with a knife, Darcy hunts down Bucky and they have a Serious Conversation and stuff happens. 
> 
> Epilouge is basically describing them having a happy life and Darcy adopting a few kids and babying Nutmeg and having a happily ever after.
> 
> (Its a sucky ending because There Was So Much Stuff That I Didnt Do.)
> 
> Anyways, please look for the rewritten version of this, and I hope to see you all there!! (April 27, 2018)

**Author's Note:**

> I feel more inspired when people come talk to me on [my Tumblr](http://ragingstucky.tumblr.com/).
> 
> *wink wink*


End file.
